


Dead men tell no tales

by Orestiad



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Pirate AU, Pirates, Swearing, kind of slow burn, there will be mythical creatures i.e. mermaids and faeries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 109,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orestiad/pseuds/Orestiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After faking his own death, Alfred boarded a pirate ship under the belief it was a safe supply ship. Now he has a choice; either join the Emerald Dragon's crew, or drown in the seas trying to swim to land.</p><p>DISCONTINUED, check last chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English is also not my first language.
> 
> I originally posted this story on Fanfiction about 5 years ago. After a long hiatus, I've decided to rewrite it and post it here. I might post it again on fanfiction, but I like archiveofourown more now so yeah! 
> 
> Because I like to keep the story as historically accurate as possible, I'll disclose information that might confuse people, as well as translations from other languages (which I hope I've used correctly, haha) Also, this story begins in 1711.

There comes a point in every person’s life where a very important decision has to be made. Decisions connected with work, money or marriage, for example.

These were exactly the decisions that Alfred loved to avoid. After his family had successfully managed to work themselves into a huge debt by taking loan upon loan, they had decided to try and marry their children off into wealthy families.

His siblings didn’t really care as much as he did. Alfred couldn’t help it, he enjoyed being a free man. As the oldest of three, he would also be obliged to take over his father’ business after he got married… and well, that would mean paying off the family’s debts. He wasn’t even sure if the debts could ever be paid off. 

The stupidest thing was, that where Alfred had no desire for this job, Matthew, had told their father that he would be more than happy to fulfil this task. His father, however, wouldn’t have it. Why, was behind his comprehension, because Matthew was way more responsible than he. He thought about his shy younger brother, who was quite taken with the fiancée he was appointed to, and who was already aspiring to work somewhere important. Why did his father just not pick him?

“Alfred, your face is going to get stuck.” He heard someone giggle, and he blinked to focus on the girl opposite of him. Hannah, his supposed fiancée, was probably just as unhappy as he was with this arrangement. She was by no means not a good catch, he admitted. With long brown hair, big brown eyes, and a petite figure, he knew that she caught the eye of several more men in the town. He knew that he was quite a good catch too. All those years wrestling with his younger brother, fighting his bullies, and working along the docks for some spare cash, left him in a good shape. And well, his face wasn’t that hard to look at, if he had to believe the occasional blushing girl. 

He sighed, and offered the girl in front of him a smile. “I thought girls liked a serious man, with a serious look about him.” He joked, but she rolled her eyes at him before remembering that that wasn’t very ladylike. She spared a glance to her parents, who were a few feet away from them, dining with his parents. Chaperoning as if their children would actually do something indecent. 

They probably chaperoned because his parents knew how much he disliked the whole arrangement. Once it was clear that Matthew had no quarrel with being married off, they focused on the oldest, and most difficult son. They wouldn’t be surprised if he bailed, and frankly said, neither would he.

Deciding a conversation with the lovely Hannah wasn’t going to work anyway; really the two had nothing to talk about, Alfred hid his face behind his cup again and started thinking. Bailing the whole situation had been on his mind constantly these days. The weirdest situations appeared to him as to how he could make an escape, but something tugged at him. He couldn’t leave his family, not with the debt. And despite all the fights he’s been having with his parents these days, he couldn’t just up and run and hurt their feelings like that. 

But he was getting desperate. He was turning eighteen in two months, and that meant marriage. He managed to convince his parents to wait until then, saying that he wanted to get his ‘business’ in order. His mother had coaxed his father into agreeing, understanding the rowdy nature of her son and deciding that doing this was probably going to help more than denying him. 

Alfred couldn’t help it. He really tried too, the first few weeks of meeting Hannah. Tried to get to like her, to see her in a romantic light or just in a ‘suitable enough for spending the rest of your lives together’ light. But they weren’t even friends. She liked etiquette, and fancy bows and lace, and played with kittens and puppies. Okay, well, the animals, he loved too. But he wanted to be free and not to be under some kind of control or etiquette. Who would care what kind of fork was used with what kind of dish? He sorely missed the days he and his brother could just go into the woods and do whatever they wanted to do, all day. 

As soon as his baby brother Albert was born, he had been given responsibility as the eldest son. That, he didn’t mind. Albert was a bugger, but he was their bugger, and playing the older brother role was never hard for him. But now, his parents even insulted him with saying Albert, with his ten years, was already more mature. Simply because he didn’t want to get married to some girl. 

“You know I hate this as much as you do, Alfred.” Hannah started. “My family is doing yours a favour, and really, you’re okay, but I can think of someone else I’d rather marry.” The infamous lover. She once confided that to him. They were supposed to meet up for dinner, but she was sniffling and announced she’d rather spend the time with some Jonas fellow, so he just told her to go crazy and wandered around town. “But we have to look like we’re enjoying ourselves.”

“I don’t see why. They too know we don’t agree to this.”

“Well, we can’t all have what we want. What do you want to do about it, run?” At his silence and suggestive shrug, her eyes widened. “Are you going to run?” She accused, looking a bit scandalized. He gave her a look and she calmed, sighing. “I suppose I can’t disagree with the idea. Are you really going to?”

“I don’t know. I think we can both agree on that we absolutely don’t want to marry each other. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“So I was thinking to just… I don’t know, bail or something. In the middle of the night. Or stage my own death or kidnapping. Fuck, I don’t know.” She glared at his cursing, but he couldn’t care. “Maybe I can just board a supply ship or something, and ask them to drop me at another town somewhere.”

“What about your family? Their debts? Are you just going to abandon them? What kind of man would do that?”

“I wouldn’t.” Alfred hissed at her. “But what other option is there? And I could try and work somewhere else. Earn money and send back home.” At that, she looked like she was taking it into consideration. She glanced once more to their families, who were happily chatting away, and sighed, folding her hands in her lap. 

“All right. I can help you.” Wait what? Alfred scrutinized her, how was she supposed to help? Bailing was just a fantasy, he had long come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t ever going to leave this town. Or life. “We just have to come up with an idea. How about this? Like you said, you board a supply ship… but do it when we’re supposed to dine or something. We’ll… we’ll get some blood, from a chicken. And smear it across somewhere, on a wall? You hide on a supply ship, and I run to my parents saying that there was a fight, and that I was scared and ran back. And when they come to help you, you’re not there. But there’s blood. And maybe a piece of your clothing or something, insinuating that you were taken.” 

“Holy shit, that’s brilliant.” He said after a short silence, amazed. Where did she come up with that? Had she been thinking about this too? Despite the cursing, she looked pretty pleased with herself. 

“You have to hide on a supply ship that is leaving soon though. No doubt a search party will be released.”

“I know for a fact that the English ship that’s now docked is leaving tomorrow evening. I heard them talking at the docks when I was working.” He said, more to himself. He thought about it. This could work! He could be dropped somewhere else, start a life or something, or work on a ship or for the Navy. He could send money back home, and maybe even contact Mattie to let him know what happened. Matthew would have his back. Probably.

“Well, okay. Are you sure about this? Because we can’t stage all this for you to get wet feet.” He nodded. “Because then we have to tell our parents that we want to go on a dinner tomorrow. I know. I’ll just tell them about that new place that opened up, the one owned by the Greek? And that you wanted to try it out. That’s not suspicious, we all know how much you love food.” 

For the first time in what felt like was forever, he felt elated, and he laughed at the semi-joke. His parents seemed to have caught that part, and looked at him with pride. Well, that was going to hurt. Disappointing his parents, or even hurting them with the idea of him being dead while he was really just… running away. But he knew he couldn’t just stay here. His life and Hannah’s life, would be over. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal. I don’t know how I can thank you for this, Hannah.”

“Thank me by getting out safely. Hopefully I won’t be forced into another marriage.” Dreamily, she looked at her drink. She was probably thinking about what’s-his-name.  
Setting up the dinner was easy enough. Alfred took his whatever earnings he had saved, and a few precious objects, like a dagger his dad had bought him the moment he took him for his first hunting trip. He spend a little longer saying goodbye to his two brothers too. He knew Matthew was suspicious of something, but he didn’t say anything, and Albert was just happy to bask in the attention. He almost doubted his decision right there, thinking that he couldn’t really do this. But when his father came in and told him he was so proud and happy for him and Hannah, he had to hold back the urge to gag. There was no other way, he told himself. 

Hannah looked as fidgety as he felt, standing in an alley near the Greek’s tavern. While it wouldn’t be a perfect lie – this town was dull, and nobody ever died or got taken here – it wouldn’t be impossible. Besides, Alfred has quite a number of people that don’t like him. Being the eldest, he didn’t only fight his own bullies, but also those of his younger brothers. He got tough, and more than once send a boy back to his home with a broken joint. Besides, it could have been undercover pirates.

As instructed, he slung the bag from his shoulder. He regretfully stole a chicken from a neighbour a few houses down, and had to slaughter it, but it was for a good cause. It had been quick. Hannah refused to help him smear it, but instructed him on how it would look most believable. Then she carefully ripped a piece of his sleeve off and threw it behind her carelessly. 

“Well. That’s it, then. I’ll be here for a while to give you some more time. But you have to be quick, and don’t you dare to get caught.” She said, fussing over him. He felt a surge of fondness for this intelligent girl who hated the situation as much as he did. If they wouldn’t be forced to marry, maybe they even could have been friends. “Stop daydreaming and get out of here.” 

He smiled and leant down to kiss her cheek gently. “Thank you, Hannah. I hope you and stable boy work out, after all.”

“He works at the bakery!” She huffed, slapping him on the arm. “Now go. I don’t know when that ship leaves.”

Saluting her, he rounded the corner and slinked back to the docks. It was dinner time, so most people were insides of their homes or dining somewhere else. Even the ship he was approaching looked quiet. He hoped nobody was standing guard. If it was like any normal ship, he had a fair idea of where he could hide for now, like the supply room or weapon room, if they had one. The flag indicated it was supply ship for the British kingdom, after all. No dangerous situations there. Perhaps they even travelled to New England. He had heard great stories about Virginia Colony and Connecticut Colony. 

He couldn’t believe his luck when he saw the guard was just released by another. Confirming this was the right one too, as they conversed in English with each other  
The following steps of his plan went rather smoothly. As he had expected, it got really busy around half past eight, as everyone got ready to depart. It wasn't hard to sneak on the ship by pretending to help with some crates, holding them up high enough to hide most of his face from other sailors.

He easily found a weapon supply room and eased behind some crates. This was too easy. Something almost felt wrong about this. He decided he would worry about it later, and leaned back.

Luck seemed to be in his favour after all. Even if he was caught, the ship was a simple supply ship, there should be nothing wrong with being caught. He would just explain and pay them the money he had, and he could work. Surely the captain of the ship would sympathize, and just drop his sorry ass on the next dock available. Just like he intended.  
Alfred closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, grinning stupidly. This was going perfect! He felt a pang of guilt by making his family worry, but he had no other choice. His family would have never listened to him. And Hannah was a darling, really. But yeah, that was never going to work out. 

And now Matthew would be able to take over his father's company, like he had wanted since he was young. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about Albert. He had all the freedom in the world and people adored him, for personality wise he was a lot like Alfred.

He hoped both of them would stick around long enough to soothe the broken heart of his poor mother, though. His mother loved her sons more than anything, but for her sake he didn't say goodbye. She would've tortured herself with accusatory thoughts. He frowned and pressed his lips together a little harder. Perhaps, in a few years, he could come back and see how things are going. Once he was settled and had a life of his own, then he would able to come by and surprise his family. For now, he was going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Virginia was an English colony from 1607-1776, and Connecticut was an English colony from 1636-1776


	2. Chapter 2

Waking slowly, the first thing Alfred noticed, was that he wasn’t in his bed or in a street after a drunken brawl. He realized he was also not where he fell asleep last night. He was somewhat uncomfortably squished between a few crates of weapon supplies the night before, and now he felt like he had all the room in the world. It was also a lot colder.

Remembering his night before, and his escape, he sighed. A pang of regret appeared in his chest, but he swallowed it down. He couldn’t go back now. Opening his eyes, he was dumbfounded when instead of a wooden ceiling, he saw blue air. All at once, he realized he was on the ship’s deck, and that there were people around him. He sat up quickly, but realized he had a dizzying headache, the back of his head hurting. Did he get into a fight? He couldn’t remember.

"Well, if it ain't the stowaway wakin' up from his beauty sleep." Someone sneered at him. Alfred looked up when a shadow loomed over his figure, his eyes still protesting the bright light from the sky. The man above him looked at him angrily, almost deadly, but Alfred calmly reminded himself he was on a supply ship.

He cleared his throat and thought a proper introduction was needed. "I-"

"Oh shut yer trap. You, marooner!" He turned around to some poor sailor walking by. "Go call the cap'n. The beggar woke up."

Beggar? That's hardly a way to call someone. Alfred frowned and sat up a little straighter, not risking to stand up just yet. He didn't have the best sea legs, and it would be more than embarrassing if he fell straight on his face.

"Ye're in some  _big_ trouble, landlubber." The man above him said. Alfred looked at him again and noticed that underneath his dirty brown rag, he had dark brown hair, matching his dark brown eyes. He spoke in an accent too, as if he never really learned to speak proper English.

He noticed other sailors looking at him with smug grins and smirks, and he was about to comment on it, when the whispering and cat-calling stopped abruptly by the sound of some boots. Alfred turned his head to the direction of the sound, and made a surprised sound at the attire of the owner of those boots.

A little… flamboyant, if he thought so himself. The man wore an extraordinary red coat, adorned with golden lines and embroidery. Underneath it, to finish it, was a white shirt with ruches. Perched on a head full of untamed, blonde hair, was a hat with feather sticking out of it elegantly. Few of them were knotted together with expensive looking gems. Focusing on the man’s face, Alfred found himself looking into the greenest eyes he has ever seen. Maybe that was because the green just really contrasted with the man’s outfit. His unnatural big eyebrows, he noticed, kind of killed the picture. He almost chuckled, but the look the man was giving him was so livid, that he actually felt a bit nervous.

Forcing a smile at the captain and working to stand up on his feet, he felt a rough shove as he was pushed back onto the ground by the man who loomed over him earlier. Something… something felt very wrong here. The man’s attire was weird, for example, and the behaviour of the sailors around him. He frowned and looked up, where he saw the flag on the mast. Where there was supposed to be an English flag marked for supplies.. was a pirate flag, instead.

“Damn it.” He cursed underneath his breath. Thinking back, the ship had seemed too fancy or daring for a supply ship, elegantly lined with bloodlike red on it’s dark wooden structure.

The man, apparently the captain, looked him up and down, settling for a glare. “What was that?” Alfred was still too flabbergasted to say anything, and kept cursing in his head. The fucking odds! Pirates never came to his town. Or well, they probably did, but always undercover. And he had to pick the one bloody _pirate_ ship that was docked, undercover. Taking his silence as Alfred being scared, the man smirked. Well, he was scared. He hadn’t ever dealt with pirates, only heard stories about them. Wonderful stories, and frightening stories. Mostly the latter.

Those eyebrows were _huge_ though, what the fuck?

The captain loomed over him threateningly. "Who are you?"

"Alfred Jones, sir." Alfred replied as politely as he could. In the eyes of these pirates, the captain was their deity, so he better respect it if he didn’t want to be thrown off board randomly.

"Tell me,  _Jones,_  what are you doing here?" For a pirate, he spoke English surprisingly well. Alfred cleared his throat again, feeling his throat dry up terribly.

"Eh… I wanted to travel with you to the next dock." He cursed himself for sounding so weak. Some sailors, no, _pirates_ , on the deck burst out in laughter. The captain annoyingly looked at them, before glaring back at him with a smirk. Alfred wasn’t aware that you could smirk and glare at the same time, but apparently you could.

“Did you realize we were pirates?”

"No. There was a flag of England's Supply Ships. I've been… misguided." He admitted, feeling heat creeping up his neck when the pirates around him roared in laughter again. _Stupid, stupid!_

“Well that _is_ quite a shame, isn’t it.” The captain sneered at him. “See him to Davy Jones.” He ordered the man next to him, turning around. He stopped in his tracks though, looking back. “Oh, what a coincidence.” Obviously referring to the Jones part. Well, Alfred didn’t really think the joke was all that funny.

And wait, what? Davy Jones? Didn’t that mean that he was going to be thrown overboard? Looking around him wildly, he saw no land in sight. He would drown. His suspicions were confirmed when two men hurled him up and started to drag him to the side of the ship. He would definitely be eaten by a shark or drown from exhaustion!

"Wait!" Alfred cried out, trying to remember what Mattie and him always said when one of them caught each other in their silly play of piracy when they were younger. Pear… Pearl? "Parley! I ask for Parley!"

It was silent for a second, and the two men dragging him across the deck hesitantly let him go. He heard a very irritated snarl, and winced when the captain rounded back to him from where he was going up the stairs. He heard him muttering something about the French, and was then pushed into the rail of the ship.

“Parley is a meeting held between two superiors. You are _not_ a superior. Of anything.” He said threateningly. Some pirates snickered, but Alfred coughed. Originally, it meant that yes. But nowadays it was a lot more normalized.

Trying not to sound clever or provoking, he explained. “That was a long time ago.” He watched as the captain frowned with his enormous brows. It wasn’t very hard to discern that the captain was debating whether throwing him off deck right now would be a bad choice. Wasn’t parlay some kind of holy pirate code, though?

Finally, the captain straightened up again, fixing him with a nasty glare. “See him to my quarters.” No sooner after the words left the captain’s mouth, the two men roughly grabbed him again and followed their captain down small stairs into an already opened room. He was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and with an irritated huff, he stood up and tried to look as dignified as possible. Just so that the captain couldn’t see he was scared shitless… but he was probably doing a horrible job.

“Leave.” The two men were gone in an instant and the captain sat at his desk, swinging his legs on it. His boots pushed him off the table slightly so he was leaning backwards on the chair, and Alfred saw that he was dwindling a dagger between his fingers.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Is it?” The man replied, raising an eyebrow at him. The only blue gam on the dagger shone brightly in the sunshine streaming in from a window next to the man. “Sit.”

Alfred stiffly sat down, happy for the small distraction and that he didn’t have to focus on his wobbly knees so much. He had asked for a parley, but what did those entail? He had no idea. Parley was usually just a word in his game with Matthew that indicated that they were too rough, or that they had enough. He wondered that if he handled this politely, that he would live. He wouldn’t bet on it.

“Who are you?” He decided on asking boldly. The captain gave him an unreadable expression, judging him, as if he were supposed to know.

“I’m the captain.” He said dully. “But if it matters. My name is Arthur Kirkland. You are aboard the Emerald Dragon.”

“Well… shit.” Alfred sighed, lowering his eyes. The Emerald Dragon was a fairly notorious ship, known for its dangerous quarrels with pirates and the Navy. Arthur’s glare broke into an amused smirk. Alfred really didn’t know what to say right now. He was thoroughly convinced he was going to die either way, and so he looked around helplessly, for any means of escape.

The captain sighed irritably. “Lad, you asked for parley. You will start talking or I will throw you to the locker this instant.”

"Right." Alfred said dumbly. Perhaps telling him why he came on the ship would be a good start. He was known for talking a lot, so if he started, perhaps he'd say something sensible. "I boarded your ship to escape my family. They have great debts and want me to marry someone I don't love. If I did… I would inherit my father's business and debts."

"So you ran away from your problems."

Alfred wisely chose to ignore that comment and continued. "With my disappearance, my younger brother will take over the business. He always wanted too and will do a better job, so I saw no reason to stay.”

Arthur seemed unimpressed. "Do they think you are dead?"

"I… think they do. I faked it."

"How?"

"My fiancée and I staged a.. some kind of kidnapping. With chicken’s blood.” It sounded really amateurish now. At the mention of his fiancée, the captain looked a bit amused. Shit, now he probably thought that Alfred was incapable of coming up with his own escape, as well.

“And the chicken?” Well, that was quite the odd question.

“Threw it to some dogs.”

Arthur chuckled lowly, taking the story in consideration. He didn’t look very murderous, and Alfred decided to relax a tiny bit. He eyed his dagger, he really wanted it back. But he wasn’t about to go and snatch it away from the other. He was sure it would more likely end up in his eye socket, if he would.

“Can’t say that it is the most original story I have heard from stowaways.” The captain, Arthur, settled on saying. His eyes glinted mischievously. “But I throw stowaways off my ship. Why should I not throw you off my ship?”

“Because I won’t steal anything. I only want to sail to another dock, and then you can get rid of me. I’ll work for my stay, and I even have a bit off…” He felt around, before realizing that if they took his dagger, they probably took his other stuff as well. “You already took what little I have.” He settled on saying, feeling a bit submissive.

Arthur nodded, glancing over Alfred. “Alfred, Alfred. They seem to think you are dead, correct? How could I let you go? I thought that dead men told no tales.”

“They don’t.” Alfred said after a while, hanging his shoulders in acceptation. He was going to die, sure he was.

“But if you think you can work on my ship, I’ll consider taking you. You seem a good, strong man. You left your family for ridiculous reasons, as have half the men under my command. Where did you plan on going, if you had your way?”

"New England, I suppose."

“Good choice. But not where we are heading as of right now.” He threw the dagger over the desk, Alfred catching it with his bare hand and feeling the cut it left. He tried not to wince, but it stung nonetheless. “You’re going to need that. Either stay here, or drown. Your choice.”

"What do you mean with ‘stay here’?"

“Stowaways are a nasty thing, Jones. Taking advantage of me and my crew is not something I take lightly. You can either join the crew and hope that I will dock in New England… or you can try and swim back to England. We both know how the latter is going to end.”

“It seems like I don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” Alfred asked bitterly. His good mood about his cleverly thought out plan from the day before was completely crushed. If he had known this… well, he would’ve stolen a horse or something, but not board a ship. “I’ll stay, then.” He could try to escape when they docked.

“Good boy.” Arthur said patronizingly, and Alfred felt his temper flare up. The captain was a real bastard, he was. Glaring each other down, Alfred felt his face crack into a grin nonetheless. The absurdity of the situation, the _luck_ he had… it was unreal. He was going to do what he did best, he supposed. Making the best out of the worst situation. “I am glad you find this so funny.” The captain said after a while, his face neutralizing again. “But I would be happier to see you get to work.”

He stood up and walking back towards the deck. Alfred followed him with his eyes closely, everything about the man practically screamed danger. He moved like he wasn’t even walking, more like floating. Opening the door and beckoning someone inside, Arthur pointed back at Alfred.

“William, show him around.” He ordered the slightly dark-skinned man. Alfred took that as his cue to stand up and walk over to them, not sparing the captain another glance as he followed William out. He probably noticed Alfred’s slightly jumpy look and smirked.

“Get to scrubbing, landlubber.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English isn't my first language either. 
> 
> Yes, I know Davy Jones wasn't mentioned in books until 1726… yeah, exactly, not in BOOKS. Why the hell wouldn't pirates be able to refer to him earlier? Not like anyone cared about pirates enough to write down what they used as slangs.
> 
> Parley was invented in the High Middle Ages. The root of the word is Parler which is French for speaking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I merged this chapter with the earlier chapter 4, so that's why it's longer than before.

Leaning on his swab, Alfred stared ahead of himself at the dark grey-blue waters in front of him. He felt on edge, anxious, and his gaze almost immediately changed course to the captain at the steer. Man, that guy was _such_ a stuck-up. Every joke was met with a glare, no matter whom it came from. Well, okay, he saw Arthur making somewhat relaxed faces to his quartermaster and first mate… but never a laugh.

He heard Arthur make jokes though, only when he was in a very sinister mood. Two men got into a rowdy fight one day, and Arthur went on how he would personally remove the nails from their fingers in gory detail if they didn’t break it up at that instant. Alfred had winced and quickly returned to his business.

His guide for the week, William, the first mate, had told him just what he had to do and Alfred could say it wasn't really what he expected. When he played pirate with Matthew, they were both mighty and brave pirates, battling each other… But these pirates did nothing of the sort. They cleaned, they climbed on the masts, they talked, they drank and wrestled, they did things in the weaponry and in the storage rooms, they discussed maps… He had expected a little more… well, he had expected more.

He shouldn't say that either though. He'd experienced enough from the crew that matched his idea of pirates, because he had to sleep in their midst. His hammock was safe, fortunately, but he was also told the rookies received all the bullying. And it wasn’t really bullying like he was used to.

Alfred thought about that. When he was younger, he never let anyone push him around, until his brother asked him to _please_ stop the fighting. But by then, everyone knew to back off and only the one with nice intentions would hang out with them.

So why was he any different right now? The main reason was that he was incredibly tired. They worked him to the bone, and he wasn't used to it, if he had to be honest. Nothing to be upset about, he figured. He'd get to work out more and that would suit a guy like him, with the whole heroic complex and all.

“Rookie, you forgot a spot.” One of the pirates said. He had no idea what his name was, but he was obnoxious, and he hated him with a passion. Well, he hated all the pirates around him actually. He had no business here, and they reminded him of it every day.

"Nothing wrong with it." Alfred said, continuing to simply stare at the captain. He noticed the captain had turned to look over his crew, and soon he would connect eyes with Alfred. Before that would happen, he'd look away, though.

"There is."

"Then clean it yourself, spongy."

The pirate raised his eyebrows and gave Alfred a rough push. Alfred, not prepared, stumbled back and hit the rails quite harshly. He broke his stare to the captain, whirled around and glared. He had about enough of the antics of the crew already, the constant insults and pushes working on his nerves, and he was itching for a fight.

"If you don't clean it now, I'll make sure you lick-" He never got to finish the sentence as Alfred's fist rammed against his cheek. The man sputtered indignantly as he stumbled backwards, before he grabbed Alfred by the collar and hit his stomach. Easily falling into the routine of wrestling, Alfred felt a mad grin appearing on his face and punched him on his jaw again, also kicking him in the gut. They both were sent tumbling, and some pirates around them started bawling and betting, while William sighed in disapproval.

The cheering for either Alfred or Ralph, as he discovered was his name, stopped abruptly when a gunshot was fired. Both men looked up in surprise to see their captain glowering down at them from his spot at the steer, his gun still aimed at them. Seeing the indention in the deck nearby them, Alfred swallowed. His eyes promised them he wouldn’t miss the next time.

"Ye heard it boys, get back to work." William said, pulling them both up again. Alfred snarled at Ralph and the other replied in kind, before leaving the hot-tempered Alfred to himself. Most of the crew went back to what they were doing, and William slapped him harsh across his back. “Don’t take it seriously, lad. We’re having fun, right?”

“If this is your idea of fun, I’ll expand on that.” He said angrily, shrugging the other’s hand off him and glaring around to people still listening. “And if that went past your idiot heads, it means I’ll cut off your-“

“Jones! My quarters, now.”

Alfred snapped his mouth shut before he shouted more profanities, realizing his voice got louder and that the captain had undoubtedly heard him. Alfred glared at the captain. Right now, he thought he would be better of trying to swim to land than to stay with these boarfaces. Arriving in his captain’s quarters, he noticed how big the room actually was. Last time he was still panicking and his vision only zeroed in on the captain itself, but this time he took the time look around. It seemed like a whole dining room. Pondering about how big it exactly was, Arthur threw a sword at him, holding his own against his throat lightly.

“Sir?” Alfred asked, still pissed but also confused. He held the sword like an amateur, but he had never held a sword before. Guns, sure. Daggers, sure. But swords? No.

Arthur nodded. “Get one cut on me, and you’ll be released on the nearest dock.” He exclaimed lowly, challenging him. Once Alfred processed the information, he grinned. It was his chance out! Completely forgetting that this was  _Arthur fucking Kirkland,_ Alfred took some kind of stance he believed could be professional, and nodded.

"Finally." He said. "I won't go easy on ya."

This brought out an unexpected reaction, and Arthur barked in laughter. "I should hope not." He smirked, taking two steps back. Alfred didn't give the captain any time, code be damned, and lunged forward, swinging his sword around madly. He didn't even care that Arthur dodged them all, some easier than the other, and instead took pleasure in the concentrated, yet amused, face of his captain. At least he had to concentrate, that's something.

He refused to look at his feet like he would during a dance, or his captain’s feet, knowing his coordination was probably perfect. He tried to circle the captain instead of the other way around. It would probably keep him in advantage. Pushing him into a corner would be a good idea too, but when that happened Arthur might feel obliged to strike, which wasn’t something he was doing right now and not something that Alfred particularly wished for.

Eventually, tiring a little, Alfred gave up on half-assed strategies and just pushed all of his frustration in his strikes, trying to win by force alone.  _This_ seemed to catch the captain off guard, and he took one stumble back before pushing the offending sword back with his own and dancing away slightly.

His green eyes shone brighter by the second and Alfred grinned, forcing another few of those blows on him. Arthur had to duck for one, and Alfred figured that his captain might be sly, stealthy and strong too, but he couldn't have the same physical strength Alfred had. He wasn't as strong as some of the pirates here, but he was a lot bigger than Arthur nonetheless. But, as he thought before, Arthur could easily match his strength with agility and speed.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him he shouldn't take this for granted, because if he could appear to win this easily then there was  _no way_ that Arthur was such a famous captain. The manner Arthur ducked out of the way or tried to disorientate him by hitting some spots with the blunt of his sword, told him enough of that.

He was close to just giving up from exhaustion, not knowing how many time had passed, when Arthur eventually attacked, reminding Alfred he was a goddamn pirate. He breathed heavily, the gun's end moving with his every breath as it rested on his chest. He grimaced and lowered his sword; Arthur raised his slightly. He wasn't even sweating or breathing louder than usual, the bastard.

"That is hardly fair."

"I never play fair, Jones."

Arthur pushed Alfred with the gun, forcing him to take a step backwards, before lowering both his weapons and turning his back on him. Alfred frowned at the dangerous move, but decided he had lost and shouldn’t act like a sore loser. He carefully put the sword down on the ground.

"Keep it. You might need it one day. The sheath is against the wall." Arthur said, waving his hand in the air. He sat down at his desk and grabbed a bottle out of one of the drawers, filling a glass with its dark brown liquid. "I hope you enjoyed working out your anger.” Twirling the glass in his hand, Arthur eyes narrowed at him with a mischievous, yet dangerous glint. Alfred sagged, knowing he didn’t even come close to getting a cut on the man, and knowing that this was probably just some game to him anyway.

If I had landed a scratch on you, I doubt I would live to tell." He replied, cracking somewhat of a grin. He was getting a bit more cheerful now that he got to release stress. He felt better if he was cheerful, too.

"Very observant. I trust that you don’t harass my men from now on."

"What? That fucker started it! They've all been pushing me around and normally I'm a pretty nice guy if I say so myself, but a man can only handle so much before they crack! I mean, damn, that spongy really had it coming, and if any-"

"Yes, Jones, you made your point quite clear. Don't worry, I think you made quite the impression." Arthur replied, almost bored at him. He took a few sips and leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes. Alfred stared at him, wondering if he had to leave or not.

Deciding he didn't really want to go back onto the deck and that his captain was just going to have to be more clear, he dropped himself in one of the two chairs opposite of Arthur’s desk with a grunt. The man made no movement that showed Alfred’s decision bothered him, so Alfred relaxed a bit, leaning back.

"Did you know that Davy Jones is a nickname for a devil, saint or god of the seas? You share his last name. I wonder what that would make you."

"Not a god of the seas, I bet."

Arthur chuckled lowly. “Not quite. Have you ever been anywhere but England?"

"Can’t say that I have."

"It seems quite a big step you have taken then. I know the Pirate Round is not in favour these years, but I do long to sail across it once. England is the last place I would want to return to."

"I have no desire to return to England, if I must be honest."

"You feel no commitment to your family and friends?" Alfred shifted slightly in his seat. He shook his head slowly, because he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer himself. He missed his family dearly, especially his little brothers. But he had decided it would be better if he didn’t return, at least not any time soon. “Interesting.” Was all the captain said in return, and Alfred wondered if more of the crew on this ship was in a similar position. He wondered if Arthur was in a similar position, though it seemed difficult to imagine the captain in a loving family.

“Forgive me for asking, but you speak quite well for a pirate.” Alfred dared, wondering if he was actually able to question the captain, aside from just taking orders and occasionally trying to stand up to him – before being glowered back into submission, Alfred thought humourlessly. Arthur didn’t look like it bothered him a lot.

“I am quite fond of our language, actually. I try not to be influenced by my upbringing or crew.” He said grimly, and Alfred cracked a smile. Upbringing huh? That was more personal than he had aimed for, but it’ll do. “But if that raises any questions; I assure you my loyalty does not lie with the navy or the monarchy. I do not care about trivial things such as the politics on land.”

“You don’t seem like you would fit well in a world of strict politics, no.” Alfred regrets saying it the instant he mutters it, but fortunately Arthur only fixes him with somewhat of a glare. He really had to think before he spoke sometimes, and he offers the captain a sheepish smile.

“Your situation isn’t one to laugh at, Jones.” Arthur berates, and Alfred just shrugged and smiled some more.

“If I weren’t to think of this as one big adventure, what kind of a potential pirate would I be? Perhaps I’ll turn out to be the hero in this story. So yeah, no worries. Just trying to stay alive, here.”

“A hero? What are you, a wee babe?” Arthur suddenly frowned and looked him up and down again. “How old _are_ you anyway?”

“Eighteen in a month, sir. And you?” He added the last part without thinking, and smiled sheepishly again when Arthur fixes him with _another_ glare. ‘ _Your face is going to get stuck’_ he remembered Hannah saying.

“You refer to yourself as a potential pirate. Piracy means robbery or criminal violence, if you had to explain it to a child. Or in other words, pirates are _bad men **.**_ ” Arthur spoke patronizingly, as if to a child indeed, and Alfred pursed his lips in slow burning resentment. “What is a bad man, Jones?”

“I could give a few examples of bad men on your ship, sir.” He cleverly replied, and Arthur grinned, more genuine this time. It kind of threw Alfred off guard, but he didn’t let it show. He hoped.

“I would say you are well on your way to become a bad man. Fighting is definitely up your alley, as is abandoning your loved ones.” Alfred’s reply got caught in his throat, and he felt his anger flare up. How _dare_ that bastard accuse him of that. That wasn’t the original plan, and he probably knew it too. “Though you hardly seem up to the task of killing, stealing, betrayal. Pirates only look after themselves, after all.”

Alfred slumped back in his seat. His captain had a point. They would steal gold and treasures, they would kill people who'd oppose, there were even idiots who raped when needy. They did leave and betray supposed ‘friends’ when the Navy or other trouble would arrive and only one could escape.

“You needn’t concern yourself, sir. I won’t stab you in the back. If it were to come to it, I would stab you in the front.” He said, pissed off and not caring that threating his captain was a really bad idea. Arthur didn’t seem to mind at all though, his gaze turning fierce as he locked eyes again with the other. Truthfully though, Alfred couldn’t even imagine killing a man. Killing an animal was already bad in his book,  even though it had to be done sometimes, but a man? With a family?

“I am impressed you think you could pose a challenge to me.” He said lowly, almost a whisper, a challenge burning in his eyes. Alfred wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t win, was nowhere near the impression he could win. But he could surprise him, or just wait his time out until he could escape. The latter was more likely. Alfred didn’t lower his gaze, leaning back in the chair again, as to create more distance but not to seem as if he was fleeing.

“You would be impressed with how much of a challenge I can be,” Alfred said. 

Arthur bared his teeth in the grin that followed, and nodded. Alfred focused on his eyes, and they were really green. He can’t even remember if he even knows people with green eyes, aside from the captain. It’s a good colour, much like the leaves on a tree in spring, and even underneath those stupidly big eyebrows they can convey pretty much any promise or threat.

“-now, Jones.”

“What was that?” Alfred asked, snapping out of his daydreaming. Arthur’s once grinning face had gone serious and stoic once more, and he looked at him, irritated.

“You can leave now. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

Alfred stood up and nodded, leaving the cabin with haste. Turning around to close the door to the cabin, Alfred snuck another glance. Arthur had turned the chair around already and was apparently looking out of the window, head resting on his hand. He resisted the urge to say goodbye or to thank him for… for what exactly? It wasn’t exactly a pep talk, yet he felt better. He grimaced, and shut the door a little too loudly than he intended to, and quickly crossed the deck to his former station.

* * *

 

When Arthur said that he had left an impression on the crew, he had apparently meant it. The following days were a lot easier on Alfred than before. The crew seemed to kind of respect him, and stopped with most of their brutal antics. For example, he wasn’t forcefully pushed out of his hammock anymore when he was trying to sleep. To wake him, they would simply shout at him or kick against his legs. They didn’t trip him when he walked by anymore (well, Ralph still did, but Ralph was a dick) and some even offered to help when he seemed to have trouble to knot the ropes.

One of them, the master gunner Reggie, had even offered him his old gun and some bullets, also showing him how to clean it and handle it. He felt a lot more secure on the ship now, knowing that people were less likely to stab him in his sleep and having a gun at his belt.

He even got included on the gossip and banter now. He learned that now that they left England, they were to head to the docks of Spain and restock on supplies, before continuing to Africa. They even hoped they would get a bit of shore leave there, though Alfred doubted he was allowed to leave the ship. Even though he got his freedom on the ship, he strangely felt like a captive. After Africa, they would go to South-America and to the Caribbean. From there on, to New-England, to the Madeira Islands, and supposedly back to England. The whole voyage should take about four years, if they were lucky.

The town they docked at in Spain was called La Coruña. Alfred noticed other ships blatantly exposing themselves as pirate ships, and figured that this was one of those towns he heard about in stories – full of pirates and no authority in sight. Inspecting the other ships, he didn’t notice the captain coming down to the deck until he was standing next to him by the rails. He too scanned over them, searching or something. By the way he tensed slightly, Alfred would say he found what he was looking for.

He followed Arthur’s scowl as best as he could and landed his eyes on a large, light wooden ship with red and yellow lines adorning it. “Spanish.” Arthur spat, and upon inspection Alfred could recognize what was supposed to be some kind of Spanish flag. He looked up at their flag, but they didn't change it for a supply ship's flag. This island was apparently known for its piracy, and therefore none of the pirates felt the need to take precaution, as he had figured out earlier.

Arthur kept a very close eye on the ship, he noticed, and he looked at the people on the ship. The ship was a fair distance away so he couldn't make it out properly, but they didn't seem to have a bigger crew than this ship. Still, it brought out a reaction from his captain and Alfred leaned on the railings casually.

"Someone you know?"

"Unfortunately." Arthur all but sneered, before he turned and walked to the plank that connected the ship with the land. He was still tense, as he looked down, and Alfred leaned over the rails slightly to see what he was looking at.

Down, on the land, close by their plank, stood a tall, brown haired man. Like Arthur, he had a red coat draped on his shoulders, but unlike Arthur's bright, obnoxious red, his was a more duller, more in the direction of a red-brown colour. There were light brown linings on the coat, and he had a dark blue hat, also with feathers. He looked over at his captain again. His was obviously a little more flamboyant, with some golden chains on his shoulders and the large details and embroidery at the sleeves.

Apparently all pirates made a big show out of their clothing, maybe it was something of a pissing contest. He looked over at the supposedly Spanish captain again and noticed with some amusement he also left the top halve of his shirt open, revealing a tanned chest. Show-off.

He pleasantly smiled at Arthur, and Alfred moved away slightly, relieved he hadn't been caught staring. As soon as the captain turned to Arthur, he noticed the Spaniard had his arm thrown around a little brown haired boy, who now glared at him – or more, just the world – heatedly.

" _Buenos días_ , Arthur." The Spaniard said jovially, smiling. "¿ _Cómo estás_?"

Alfred had absolutely no idea what he was saying, but figured it must be a greeting in his own language. Arthur seemed to know exactly what it meant, and he merely glared back. "Pass along now, miscreant."

The Spaniard's eyebrows rose slightly, and he chuckled in favour of the boy next to him complaining in a foreign language, and shrugged. They exchanged more, quiet conversation, before the Spaniard straightened up again. "Then I will see you later, perhaps,  _mi amigo_?" He directed back to Arthur, and by the looks of it, it looked more like an invitation than a simple goodbye.

He saw Arthur muttering something under his breath as he turned around and ordered something to his quartermaster and boatswain, before boarding the ship again. He didn't spare the Spaniard one more glance as he disappeared into his quarters. Alfred frowned, looking back at the disappearing Spaniard.

"That's Antonio Fernández Carriedo, cap'n of the Scarlet Fiesta." Reggie offered after he dropped some crates close to Alfred. "An old rival of the cap'n."

"That seems an understatement." Alfred replied confusingly, and Reggie grinned.

"We're not sure if the cap'n  _really_ hates him, seeing they meet and discuss when the time comes. But they have spilt enough blood, he's not someone we should interact with."

"It seems they knew each other well."

"Most pirate cap'ns know each other too well for their likin'. Just stay clear of them, cap'n orders."

"Ah, but-"

"Care killed the cat." Arthur said coolly. Alfred turned around slightly and noticed his captain glaring him down threateningly, as if not to inquire anymore. He appeared to only have grabbed some stuff from his cabin, ready to head out again. Reggie cleared his throat, nodded, and left to get on with his work, and Alfred smiled brightly.

"But satisfaction saved it." He replied teasingly, and Reggie tensed, looking at the two with surprise.

Arthur's face remained impassive for a good five seconds, before the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly. It could've been with malicious intent or not, but Alfred liked to think his joke worked and instead just grinned.

"Very well. Reggie, why don't you get William to organize the groups? We need one for supplies and one for watch; I couldn't care less what you are doing after that."

"Shift change in five hours, then?"

"Acceptable. Jones, stay close to the ship." Reggie was off to William, who shouted for the crew to come together. Alfred was about to move towards the group as well, his heart thumping at the order he got. He was allowed to get of the ship after all, so that meant he wasn’t really a captive, right? He watched Arthur walk down the plank, into the town, looking quite at ease, but Alfred could see the alertness in his posture.

He smiled and turned to William, who luckily put him into the guard group. He didn't feel like going into town yet, he wasn't in any party mood at all. Unfortunately for him, Ralph was put on the same group. Their small group had to wait around the ship and take watch for five hours, before they could go into town themselves.

"Trying to be friendly with the captain there, huh?”

"Drop dead." Alfred cheerfully replied and Ralph rolled his eyes at him. Fortunately for Alfred, Ralph was the apprentice to the carpenter, so if he had to do his duties he would almost never see him. But, of course, not all beautiful things lasted long.

“Don’t think you’re more than a simple swabbie, kid.” Ralph berated, looking as if he just told something really funny. Alfred’s eye twitched. If it were up to him, he was _nothing_ , not a swabbie or cabin boy or any kind of pirate. “Soon the captain will realize that too. Might even push you off the ship what with your potty mouth.”

"You really have some screw loose in there, don't you?" Alfred sneered at him. Why the hell did Ralph care what his position was or what the captain thought of him? The odd thought came to him that Ralph was jealous that he could talk back to the captain without getting penalties, but that would be strange. Alfred was under constant death threat from the captain as it was, and Arthur probably only found him interesting because he was just a _landlubber_. Maybe Ralph was right, and Arthur would throw him overboard if Alfred proved to be as lame as he thought.

“I just like my crew and ship.” Ralph said with the same, somewhat forced, smile.

"Yeah, well, they don’t need babying from some apprentice.” Alfred muttered at him. He didn’t feel the need to get into a fist fight right now, the day was young and the bastard wasn’t worth it.

"I am watching you, Alfred." He said lowly, and Alfred scoffed.

"I don't need babying either. Go take a swim."

Ralph had already turned around and left, Alfred making a face at him behind his back. He didn’t trust him one bit, and wondered that if he would become the carpenter, and thus also the surgeon, if he would actually trust him enough to patch him up. Not that he would be around long enough to need patching up of course, Alfred added to his thoughts hastily. Damn, sometimes it was easy to imagine he was supposed to be here. Some kind of brain washing effect of just living with the freedom he was offered, he supposed.

After more than six hours, people gradually walked back to the ship for the shift change, horribly late but at least they showed up. Alfred chose to get some more sleep instead of going out, and walked down to the hammocks, quickly finding his and dropping in it. A poor drunk bugger had taken the same decision and Alfred ignored him. He fell asleep eventually, and woke up after an unknown period of time. He blinked lazily and rolled over, deciding it was too early still. His adolescent instincts told him it was perhaps about two or three hours after midnight. Even  _they_ didn't need to wake up that early.

After a while he discovered the reason why he woke up in the first place. There was shuffling in the area, almost as if someone was searching. He lied still, hoping it wasn't an intruder who got past the guards. When he ruled it out, he hoped it wasn't Ralph looking for trouble. Deciding Ralph wouldn't be loud enough to hear - he had to at least give him that -, he ruled it out as well. When he looked up in confusion as to who it would be, he noticed the room was occupied by more sleeping pirates and he frowned. He had slept through that perfectly, so he had probably been more tired than he had initially thought.

He sat up when he realized the shuffling wasn't from in the same area, but from above, on deck. He grimaced a little, the source was strange and that was why he woke from it. The noise of his crewmembers going to bed, well, that had happened the entire time he was here. Guess his instincts got trained after all, even after roughly a month.

He stood up and stretched. Figuring that since he was awake now, he might offer to take watch in exchange of the watch next night. Once he was awake like this, it would be hard to fall asleep anyway.

Alfred climbed through the hammocks and slowly trudged up the stairs, still working on his limbs to wake up. He stopped when he heard a familiar voice.

"-are planning an attack."

Alfred frowned. He couldn't recognize the voice right now, so it wasn't one of the few he knew best. He settled against the wall and listened.

"Should we tell the cap'n?"

"Hell no! Ye know they promised to let us go, why run? If we run, the navy will get us anyway." There was a thoughtful hum and Alfred frowned. An attack from the Navy? Why would they plan an attack? Either way, he had to tell the captain. He made a face at the thought of waking his captain up. No doubt he'd be pissed. But he didn't know when this so called attack would be. What if it was before sunrise? His captain would be  _very_ pissed if he hadn't alerted him.

The two men stumbled away and Alfred didn't think much about them anymore, cursing himself before fleeing out and heading for the captain's quarters immediately. He began knocking on it furiously, as it was locked, but the two men weren't as far away as he thought.

"Hey! Jones! What'cha doin'?" One of them called, not pleasantly surprised. Alfred ignored them in favour of knocking on the door. _Damn, open the door already, would ya?_

"Jones, why don't we go and-"

The door opened abruptly and Arthur glowered at him with barely concealed anger and tiredness. "What in the world do you want, Jones?"

All three went quiet at the stare, before Alfred remembered why he was here. "Captain, I need to talk to you.  _Now._ "

"Cap'n, the swabbie is just hallucinating from lack of sleep, we'll just-"

"Get lost, bastards!" Alfred said, glaring at them before looking back at Arthur. "Captain. It's  _urgent._ "

"Cap'n, seriously-"

"Shut up." Arthur spat out, rubbing his temples. "Jones, can this not wait until morning?"

"Absolutely not." He replied, trying to convince his captain by fixing him with a very steady and serious gaze. Arthur looked at him, letting his eyes pass over the two others before rolling them in irritation.

"Make it quick." He said, turning around and walking back into the room. Alfred walked in quickly, and noticed the two others wanted to follow him. He scoffed and turned around.

" _In private._ " Alfred added in a low tone, slamming the door in their faces. Man, they didn't look pleased at all. Alfred hoped the captain would believe him, or he'd most likely have a fight later.

Alfred turned back to the room and noticed the desk was an absolute mess, a brown bottle lying on the ground, another one on the table. Arthur was rubbing his temples again and leant against the desk, shuffling some papers through each other.

"What is it?"

"I, uh, I overheard those two talking." Alfred started, looking at his captain nervously, but with half a smile forming. Arthur didn't look all that intimidating with bed-hair, an open shirt revealing his thin and white chest, slightly marred with scars. His sword thrown over a table nearby carelessly, but his gun was on his desk. He looked to his left and noticed a wide open door that revealed a bedroom. He wondered if he had been sleeping, or working on something, seeing as both the desk and the large bed in the other room looked like they had been occupied.

" _Yes_ , Jones?" Arthur asked after a while and Alfred's cheeks burned slightly in embarrassment. He had been checking his captain and the room out silently, forgetting the situation.

“They said something about a planned attack. I didn't know if it was an attack on us, but they decided on not telling you, so I guess it is."

Arthur appeared a little more focused now, and he looked at him fiercely, his eyes burning into his own. Even in the dark of the night they burned bright, and Alfred was slightly mesmerized before he snapped out of it. "Why would they not tell me?"

"I overheard them saying that  _they_ promised to let them go. They thought it was no use to tell you, or to escape and get caught by the navy anyway." Alfred replied, wondering if the captain would buy it. After all, those two had been here longer, and Alfred had only been here for like a month, why on earth would the captain trust him?

There was a silence as the captain studied him, probably looking for a sign that implied he was lying or not. Alfred remained still, if somewhat tense, and looked right back at Arthur. He wasn't afraid of him, well, he _was_ , but not _really_. That didn't make sense.

"Go back to your hammock, Jones." Arthur eventually ordered, and he turned around to organize the papers he had just shuffled by leaning on the desk.

Alfred frowned. "What? You don't believe me? I'm telling the truth! Why would I lie about this, that isn’t logical!" When Arthur didn't respond, Alfred freaked out. He was on this  _blasted_ ship, so if it would get attacked, he would be one of the victims, damn it! Why didn't Arthur believe him? Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped forward and grabbed Arthur's shoulder.

He had his back against the surface of the desk so fast he couldn't even yelp, and he made a surprised noise at the hand clamping down on his throat. The desk made a protesting creak, not agreeing with the added weight that Alfred brought.

Arthur stared down at him with an angry sneer. "Do _not_ touch me without my permission." Arthur said lowly, pressing down on his throat a little more after every two words.

"Sorry." Alfred stuttered out, nonetheless grabbing the wrist of his captain, trying to get him off. Arthur wasn't pleased by that at all, but he pressed once more before abruptly letting go, as if he touched fire.

"Jones. Just because I give you an order, does not mean I am not taking what you said into consideration." He then continued icily. Alfred took a deep breath and blinked, quickly straightening up. Standing directly in front of the captain, he noticed he was a few inches bigger. He was broader and bigger, and he still knew the man could kill him in the matter of seconds. Perhaps not in a few years, but now, he could.

"Consideration? Captain, what I am saying must be true! It's a warning! What harm could be done if we leave earlier? Or at least prepare for a fight!" Alfred continued, taking a step back as to lessen the height difference.

Arthur suddenly smirked and shook his head. "Lad, you should know that if any smart foe does plan an attack, they would never attack while we are docked here. An attack might be planned, yes, but most likely an attack on open sea."

That seemed reasonable, after Alfred gave it another thought. He was suddenly embarrassed of his actions and bit his lip. Arthur had been a pirate for god knows who long, longer than him, of course he always took caution when there was a mention of an attack.

"I apologize-"

"Leave it be, Jones." Arthur said dismissingly, waving a hand in the hair. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, untangling some locks. The locks fell on place again and Arthur dropped his arm, turning to his quarters. "I am surprised you told me. If we were attacked… it could be the navy, for example. You could explain to them who you were, they could find your family to prove your innocence. You could have easily said we kidnapped you."

Alfred was surprised he hadn't even thought about that. As soon as he heard the news he had just rushed over to the captain to warn him. But even so – he wouldn't have done that. His meaning was to  _get away_ from his home, not to return to it.

Arthur looked at him oddly when he remained silent, obviously expecting a comeback. Alfred shrugged and gave him a sheepish grin. The captain looked at him silently, scanning him over. Or at least that's how it felt to Alfred. He noticed Arthur often looked at someone for a very long time, as if he were looking for something. Also, he often stared off into space, even though he was as alert as ever. Those times it seemed he was seeing things that weren't there.

"Anyway, Jones, go back to your hammock. _Now_." Arthur eventually said, walking to the door to enter deck himself. Alfred followed him and was disgusted to see the two men actually waited for them to finish. They looked angry at Alfred, but quickly regained postures at the sight of the captain.

"Men. Take watch for the remainder of the night." Arthur ordered, and Alfred knew it wasn't in sympathy for the others that were taking watch. The men would obviously try and pick a fight with Alfred once the captain left, and now Arthur gave him a chance to return to his hammock without much trouble.

The men groaned but set out to release the others from their job. Alfred started down the stairs, turning around slightly to look at his captain. Arthur was keeping a watchful eye on the two men, who hauled themselves up on the fo'c's'cle. He smiled and within moments he was in his hammock, finding sleep with some difficulty.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English isn't my first language either.
> 
> I don’t know if anyone understood that Ralph was actually Australia. I just needed a competitive character on the ship as an equal for Alfred, so yeah, lol.
> 
> ¿Cómo estás? – How are you?
> 
> \- Fo'c's'cle - Forecastle refers to the upper deck of a sailing ship forward of the foremast, or the forward part of a ship with the sailors' living quarters
> 
> The proverb was originally "Care killed the cat", with Care meaning worry or sorrow. Curiosity killed the cat hadn't been used up until 1873 in James Allan Mair's compendium.  
> I know "Satisfaction brought it back" wasn't there then in books and stuff (Stephen King might've been the first?), but I like to think Alfred was just clever with words against his old dear captain and, because he wanted to know, thought that the news would satisfy him and thus bring him back from a dangerous situation. But because Alfred isn't a genius, I altered the sentence to "Satisfaction saved it."
> 
> A swabbie – person who mopped the decks, also some sort of insult to someone you don’t hold in high regards


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of the days that they were docked at La Coruña, were spent with the crew heading out and getting absolutely wasted between shifts. Obviously that was not all they did – well, some of the crew did – and Alfred noticed his captain and first mate heading out in quite different directions throughout the days. They even boarded another ship at one point, and he figured they must be discussing matters with other captains.

Alfred decided there was nothing special about the town, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to venture deeper into the country to see more things. Besides, he had a direct order that he ought to be nearby the ship at all times, and seeing as this wasn’t really a place where he would like to escape, he obeyed.

After he had done his 'chores', as Reggie teasingly put it, Alfred walked along the harbour, looking at the ships and trying to stay clear from unwanted attention. He had politely flirted with some ladies going from house to house, passing by the harbour, and helped an old man carry a heavy box, but after that, there were no more good deeds he could perform.

He sighed and sat down on a lonely looking crate, staring ahead of him. A part of him wished they could get going again, because life sure was more exciting on the sea. Perhaps, if he got used to the pirate life, he too would long for land, but he had enough of it now, and it wasn’t as if he felt safe enough to really venture into town alone.

" _Bastardo perversa! Come ti permetti di mentire a me_!  _Vaffanculo!"_  A small brunette rounded a corner, fussing and pulling at his hair, groaning irritatingly. Alfred looked at him curiously as he passed him, obviously on his way to a ship. It wasn't until the boy turned around that he recognized him as the boy with the Spanish captain earlier.

" _Cosa stai guardando a_?"

Alfred frowned, Spanish wasn't his language – as in, he spoke no word. He figured he knew _si_ , but that's about it. "Sorry buddy, I don't speak Spanish."

The boy frowned and switched to a heavy accented English. "It was Italian,  _idiota_. Who are you, eh?"

"None of your business." He had been told to stay clear of the crew of the Scarlet Fiesta, so he decided on doing so.

"Aren't you one of… you belong to  _il bastardo inglese_  !" Inglese must be English. And he knew the word bastard, every language seemed to not derive of the word too much.

"Shut up." Alfred growled. "Don't let me get started on your captain." That was just bluff, because he knew absolutely nothing about the Spaniard. According to his crew and captain, he was a horrible man.

To his surprise, the boy chuckled. "No, let's not, I'd rather forget about that  _testa di merda_." He looked at the direction he came from and glaring murderously.

"If you hate him, why are you with him?"

" _Stai zitto!_ I never said that. The _bastardo pomodoro_ is just annoying." The Italian kept cursing in his language, and Alfred had absolutely no idea what he was saying, so he ignored it. He kind of expected the brunette to continue on now, but he was still looking at him and the direction he came from nervously.

"Has your crew met up with  _capitano_  Beilschmidt yet?" He asked quietly, and Alfred shook his head. He didn't know any Beilschmidt, so he guessed not, but Arthur probably did.

"I have no idea. Perhaps the captain has. Why?"

"Oh,  _niente_." He shuffled around for a while before he groaned in displeasure and took a step forward. "Look, English  _bastardo_." He should be more original with his insults. "Could you… _sai_ , tell me if you did?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Just because! I need to see him and my  _capitano_  won't let me,  _il egoista_. You only need to tell me where he is.  _Capiche_?"

Alfred sighed and leaned forward slightly, wondering if he would be spotted. It couldn't be bad to talk about a little thing like this, right? How much harm could it do? "Look mate, I would, but I don't think I'd meet up with them. If they are pirates, they are probably docking here too."

" _Sì_ , I know! But the  _capitano_  and… others, are staying in town. Not on their ship."

"Lovi! Lovi! ¿ _Dónde estás_?" Alfred looked up at the foreign voice and the boy before him tensed.

"Just tell me if you know where he is. It's very  _importante_! The  _bastardo_  won't let me, so,  _per favore_?"

Alfred frowned at the slightly panicked look and gave him an assuring smile. "Sure, kid. If I know anything about him, I'll be waiting here, all right? Just come and look for me when you have time." He could promise as much, but he wasn’t about to go out of his way to help. He didn’t want any trouble.

The look of relief on the boy's face was enormous, and he grinned widely. Another good deed done, even if the boy was supposedly an enemy. " _Grazie_ ,  _pirata inglese_." The boy muttered, before they were both interrupted.

"Ah Lovi! There you are!"

"It's Lovino,  _bastardo_!"

Alfred tensed at the sight of the Spanish captain, Carriedo. Damn. He hoped he didn't recognize him as one of Arthur's men. Or that 'Lovino' didn't sell him out. It wouldn't be smart of him, because if he did, Alfred wouldn't help him with this Beilschmidt guy.

"¿ _Qué_? Who is this?"

Lovino and Alfred locked eyes and he tried to intimidate him with a warning glare. He supposed it wasn't needed because the boy  _really_ wanted his help, but he did it anyway. Lovino shrugged carelessly. "Some useless sailor." He replied, keeping a boring façade, and Alfred tried not to smile in appreciation.

Carriedo looked at him once more before ignoring him completely and grabbing Lovino at his waist, pulling him close to himself. The brunette spluttered and tried to push him away, cursing at him in Italian as the Spaniard dragged him to his ship and disappeared out of Alfred's sight.

Well…That went better than expected. He straightened and rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tenseness, and started walking back to their ship. Tomorrow would be their last day. They had to leave in the early morning the day after, so he figured that if he'd wanted to go into town he'd better do it today. He wasn't a morning person after all. And he might run into this Beilschmidt guy. Promising himself not to actually search for him, Alfred set out into town, it's night life already starting, and hoping that he would run into the crew.

After looking in a few taverns for some crewmates, he took a left in the alleyway and continued in a different street. He picked up that the town was known for many, enjoyable festivals, but it was the wrong date. Just as he debated he should return to the ship, he found Tim, a rigger, along with some others he hadn't really gotten to know. He was dragged into a tavern again and decided that he might as well socialize with them and have fun, seeing he was going to be with them for god knows how long.

They were in the midst of discussing old adventures of them when a few women dragged a few of their men with them, and Alfred frowned. He hoped they wouldn't try and get him, because he was absolutely not in the mood for it. As it were, he had politely declined two girls who looked too young to be here, and the remaining men went on with the story-telling.

"So! There I was, and all I c'uld see were bluddy natives! They were yellin' and rollin' their tongues at me and I shwear, I shit my pants at how their wom'n looked!" He said, his voice slurry because of the alcohol taking effect. "They captur'd me and tied me to one of tha trees!"

"This story again? Man, he’s such a phony." He heard someone faintly say and looked at someone who re-joined the group once again, looking disgustingly pleased.

"Shut yer trap, scumbag. Being tha brave man I was," There was another cough. "I tried to get them to fight me. They didn't understand me one bit, poor bastards. Seeing no other way, I noticed tha roughness of tha tree. I rubbed mah wrists against them until they bled, but tha ropes cut and I was free! They didn't notice me however, so I ran for mah dear life. I eventually found a small fisher's village who told me those natives weren't real! I was captur'd by a legend, they said!"

"A big lie, John! Ye're full of shit!"

"It's true I tell ya!" John said with conviction, before he showed his wrists. "Look, here are tha cuts!"

"Ha ha!" Someone laughed, and he thought his name was Jack, but he wasn't sure. "Ye probably cut yer own wrists to fool us!"

There was a scoff. "Then don't believe me, but I tell ye, when they come fer ya, I won't be there to help ya!"

"You wouldn't be there anyways!" The group dispersed into laughter, Alfred joining joyfully. It was just playful banter, nothing harmless. John quickly gave up trying to convince the others and instead just gulped down his drink really fast, slamming it on the table and demanding another.

"What about ye, Jones? Tell us about yer homey life!"

Alfred chuckled. "Guys, guys, my life was  _boring._ Really, I have nothing to tell you, nothing at all!"

"Nonsense, lad!" John said, slapping him on the back friendly. "Everyone has stories! And everyone has had a borin' family life! Some just escaped the doom earlier!" The group laughed again and Alfred chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He eventually got forced into telling a story where he and Matthew got lost, while they were really just on the land of a neighbour. He felt it was incredibly boring, but they seemed to be interested, so he rolled with it. They even laughed at the clue and all, but Alfred figured they were just way too drunk to care.

After this, he slowly slid away from the group. The movement went unnoticed and he grinned thankfully, leaving quickly. Once outside, he shivered slightly. The temperature here differed from the packed, stuffy tavern, but it wasn't cold either.

He decided he might as well go back to the ship. He felt tired, and he also felt like he had seen enough of the town to decide it wasn't all that much fun. And… the story made him think of his family, which made him a bit sad.

How are they faring right now? Were they all right? Did they still grief over him, had a funeral for him even though his body wasn't present? Did they search for him, involved some authorities? He hoped not. The sooner they got over the fact he wasn't alive, the better.

He hoped Mattie and Albert were all right as well. He had counted on Mattie to take care of Albert once he was gone. Albert had been incredibly dependent on Alfred, seeing they were so much alike. He hoped Matthew would spend more time with Albert, now that they would both suddenly lack an older brother.

Alfred briefly wondered about the family he was supposed to marry into. Would they help his family or did they just ditch them in favour of another potential son-in-law? Hannah would be able to handle herself, though.

"Stop following me around, frog." Alfred looked up at the familiar voice of his captain, amazed he managed to run into him. He was still out here and celebrating then. He figured if he was pirate for a while longer, he would stay up and party longer too. But now he just felt drained, emotionally and physically.

" _Mon cher!_  Don't be so cruel, it has been too long! I missed you!" A playful, unfamiliar voice, replied to the British man and Alfred looked away from his captain to see another man following him - no, practically  _draping_ himself across his captain.

Judging by his attire he was undoubtedly a captain, if he were to believe that all pirate captains dressed as flamboyant as possible in the hopes of winning whatever pissing contest was going on. He had a light green coat draped across his shoulders, decorated with a gold that was closer to dark yellow in the night. On his long, tied blonde hair perched a black hat with decorations unlike Arthur's. His hat was adorned with ruches and silk. He was also apparently very comfortable with being close to Arthur, he noticed gloomily. Arthur, although looking very annoyed, didn’t look uncomfortable either, as if it happened more often. Alfred felt a bit strange at that, he wasn’t used to seeing his captain feel comfortable with… well, with other people.

"I don't care. Go hop along to some whores to entertain yourself with and leave me be."

"But you are trying to find Beilschmidt,  _oui_? I know where he is!"

"Of course you do." Arthur replied, turning around to face the other man. "Then tell me where he is."

"Ah, Arthur, you are one of  _mes amis_ , but to fight on such a wonderful night-"

"I don't want to fight with him, idiot. I want to talk to him." At the blonde man's curious look, Arthur stopped and smirked. "So tell me where he is."

"Ah, not fair! I will tell you, if I can come with you. Or if you give me a-"

"Where you go or not is not my business, frog, as long as you are not bothering me." Arthur interrupted smoothly.

Alfred decided he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he heard something of mere importance. They were going to see Beilschmidt. It would be dangerous to follow his captain around like a spy, but… he felt obliged after that talk with Lovino. He cursed himself for his heroic personality, and silently fell in step, some paces behind his captain. He kept his head down, so that if Arthur would look around, he might not see him immediately.

He was close enough to hear some of the conversations the two men were having, and decided to tune it for the heck of it.

"Did you hear of Beilschmidt's latest raid?"

"That of an entire harbour because he misplaced his pet bird? Yes."

" _Non_ , not that one. The younger Beilschmidt." Alfred suddenly recognized the man spoke in what had to be a French accent. He hung his head and smiled. Arthur sure knew lots of people, and he wondered which one of them he considered friends. Knowing him, probably none. Still, it was amazing to know so many different kinds of people. It made his earlier life seem very dull in comparison.

"The little brother took himself a little Italian." At this, Alfred paid more attention. Lovino was Italian too, and he really wanted to see Beilschmidt… Did this Beilschmidt have one of his friends? A family member? Most likely. "Familiar,  _non?_  He looks like Antonio's pet." Family member, definitely. Arthur didn't respond to him, but the Frenchman continued anyway. "Antonio was so very angry at him."

"I can imagine, he must be frightened to lose his _possession_." Eventually they were led to a more quiet part of the area, and Alfred followed groups to mingle with them, in order to not be spotted, when the Frenchman stopped in front of a certain tavern. "I just hope Antonio is not here." He grumbled, and Arthur scowled.

"I have no interest in seeing him. Why don't you go and check? There is no need for trouble tonight." He dismissed the other who gave him a look, but clearly had the same idea. He disappeared into the building and Arthur looked around at the people impassively.

Alfred should leave now. He knew the tavern, he could point it out… Lovino could handle the rest himself. But as he wanted to turn back and leave, he saw Arthur looking his way. There was a faint look of recognition on his face before Arthur's lips tugged upwards, but he wasn’t sure if it was in a smile or not.

Knowing he was caught, Alfred hung his shoulders and walked forward to his captain, keeping his head down.

"This part of town is not particularly interesting, Jones." Arthur remarked, and Alfred smiled carefully.

"Yeah, but I was bored. Decided to wander around a little."

"I told you not to stray too far. As every town, this one has it's… faults."

Was that a warning? Concern, for him? Alfred suddenly smiled a little more playfully. "Was that concern I heard there, captain?"

Arthur frowned. "Tell me, Alfred, how are your legs?" Oh, that was low. Alfred faked a glare and moved his right leg a little. When he first got to land, he immediately fell on his face again, to the great amusement of his crew. He had been used to the rocking of the sea, and the solid ground didn't provide him with the same sensation.

"What, you never had that?" He rudely replied and Arthur gazed at him with amusement.

"We all experienced it, Jones. If you were to be in need of assistance next time, I would recommend you _not_ to ask for it, though." He said almost playfully, and Alfred raised an eyebrow. _Really_ now.

"Oh, pardon if I fall and drag you down with me then,  _Captain._ "

"I was not talking about me, Jones. The crew will most likely harass you for it. And if you were to drag me down, you will just be in charge of buying me a new coat. Which, aren't easy to get, especially since you would be gutted."

Alfred scoffed and grinned at his captain's teasing expression. "Of course captain, we wouldn't want you to miss one of your coats. They do sustain your big ego after all." He regretted it partly after he said it, but his captain only raised his eyebrows. A movement hard to go unnoticed and he bit his lip, trying not to comment on them. Damn, they were distracting.

"You never cease to surprise me." Arthur casually said. "Mind that you can only cross so many boundaries."

There was nothing threatening about it, just a small promise and warning, and Alfred nodded.

"So what's up with you and the Spanish git?"

"This is one of those boundaries." Arthur said lowly, narrowing his eyes. Wondering if his captain would really punish him or whatever for something like this with so many people around - Yes. Yes he would. Alfred smiled, noticing that his captain's enormous eyebrows furrowed together when he was eyeing him so closely. It kind of made him look like an angry, innocent, yet adorable teen.

Sensing this was going the down the gutter - His captain, adorable? Who the fuck was he kidding? He shook his head and found that Arthur had turned away from him. The blonde man from before came back, looking happy as ever.

Arthur glared at him, but the man didn't falter, and instead turned to Alfred. "I did not know you had a new shipmate!  _Bonjour_ , my name is Francis Bonnefoy."

"Alfred Jones."

"So, why don't you join my crew?"

There was a click of a gun's safety being unlocked, and Arthur looked at Francis daringly. Francis raised his hands and pouted, and Alfred felt the familiarity between them in the air.

"Nothing could hold my attention longer than you,  _mon ami_!"

"I am not your friend." He said tiredly, as if he had said it before.

" _Oui, oui_. Antonio is not here, let's go. Are you coming along, Alfred?"

Alfred looked at his captain. He didn't seem to have any problems with it, but Alfred didn't think he would like to meet another crazy pirate captain. He smiled.

"No thanks. I'll be at the ship."

Arthur looked at him as Francis shrugged and entered the building again. "Jones," He called out as Alfred turned around and walked away. "Don't stray."

"Care killed the cat, captain." Alfred said back teasingly, and he couldn't ignore the mixed look on his captain's face, a mix between anger and amusement. He laughed and waved, before stalking off.

He passed the Spaniard's ship as he walked back to his own, and he noticed the brunette hanging off the railing with a board look. He smiled and looked ahead of himself.

"Blowin' Bartie." He said lowly. The Italian shot up in surprise, before understanding. Alfred arrived at his ship soon after, happy to see his hammock and falling asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and English isn't my first language.
> 
> Cosa stai guardando - What are you looking at?  
> Stai zitto – Shut up!  
> Pomodoro bastardo – tomato bastard  
> Niente – nothing  
> Vaffanculo – Fuck you  
> Testa di merda – shithead
> 
> ¿Dónde estás? – where are you?
> 
> A rigger is someone who works up in the masts and handles the sails and stuff. Dangerous work, it is.


	5. Chapter 5

He was kicked out of his hammock the next day, hearing that he had to help so that they could set sail. Alfred rubbed his sore back, glaring at the people around him who just snickered. They didn’t just kick him out for no reason though, as he was told he had been sleeping in longer as usual and didn’t respond to their shouts. Kind of his own fault, then.

Pulling his left boot on while simultaneously trying to climb to deck, Alfred tripped no more than three times before reaching the mast and leaning on it with a grunt. There was no one nearing him with any orders just yet, so he stretched lazily and closed his eyes to briefly enjoy the morning sun on his skin.

“Jones! Get some breakfast and come help me with the crates.” One of the men yelled, and he nodded, thankful he was at least allowed to still get some breakfast in the galley. He only managed to get some bread from the cook though, who was pissed with him coming in after the normal time, so as to not piss anyone else off, he quickly went back to deck and leant against the rails, looking at the docks.

Devouring the small loaf as fast as he could so that he could get back to business, Alfred spotted something behind some of their crates waiting to get onto the ship. He squinted and recognized the figure as the little Italian from the day before. Focussing a bit more he saw that he was beckoning Alfred to come to him, and Alfred looked behind him. He guessed he could spare some more time, and just help with the crats below instead of on deck.

Besides, Lovino probably only wanted to cuss at him or thank him or something. Quickly making his way off the ship and onto the docks, he gave a bright smile at the boy as he walked over. “Lovino! What up?”

"I wanted to… you know." The boy started with a scowl. Alfred cocked his head and played dumb with a silly smile, but he  _did_ in fact know. It was more fun to tease him though and the brunette slowly got redder. Lovino looked at his feet and scowled angrily. " _Bastardo inglese…_  I just… wanted to- I came to say-  _Merda_!  _Grazie mille_! There!" He looked up victoriously and Alfred grinned.

"Please, you know I don't understand Italian." He knew what it meant anyway and when Lovino punched his shoulder, he smiled playfully.

Lovino was starting with another rant of Italian cuss words, when Alfred’s neck hairs started to stand up, and he wondered if he had taken too much time. Sagging his shoulders, he winked at the boy and started to make for the crates, when he decided to look at the ship and noticed his captain glaring daggers down at them. Swallowing – he couldn’t be in trouble just for greeting the Italian, right? – Alfred stilled and waited for the captain to walk over to him. Behind him he heard Lovino curse loudly _– testa di merda_ – and he turned around, starting when he was suddenly face to face with Antonio Carriedo.

Jesus, that man was slightly bigger than him and probably weighed as much as him, but he hadn’t heard him approaching. The Spanish captain offered the approaching Englishman a silly smirk, and Alfred turned his head slightly to look at Arthur, before feeling a fist connect with his jaw harshly. He staggered back from the surprise, tripped over some ropes near the crates because that was just his luck, and fell down on his ass.

Okay, so the Spaniard might only be a bit bigger than him, but with him being on the ground and the other towering over him, Alfred could see the potential threat he was facing here. He made a face, thinking about that crawling away was probably not very dignified or hero-like, but before he had made any plans of escape, Antonio’s boot connected with his stomach harshly. He coughed and clenched his eyes shut, surprised at how much that had _hurt_.

He was about to anticipate some new kind of punch or kick, when a shot rang and someone stepped over him. Antonio was still glaring at him fiercely, but that was all he could see past the enormous red coat of his own captain, who stood right in front of him, his gun pointing at the other’s head. Antonio’s hat lied somewhere behind them, and Lovino scrambled to pick it up.

“What was that?” Arthur asked, his neutral tone only slightly betraying his anger.

Alfred sagged in relief a bit. While he was probably still in trouble, he figured that Arthur wasn’t about to let someone else kill him. If worst came to worst, he probably wanted to do the honours himself. Inching back a bit and finding support on some crates, Alfred heaved himself up to two feet again.

“I thought I told you to leave my crew alone.” His captain continued in a low voice. Antonio broke their gaze to look at the smaller, Englishman in front of him, and smiled cockily.

“Your _perro inútil_ didn’t follow your orders.” At that, Arthur spared Alfred a sideways glance, his gun still aimed at the Spaniards head.

“If see you’re still as ignorant as ever. Your brach asked for his aid.” Arthur mocked, and the other frowned slightly, looking at the Italian behind him. Lovino gaped at the captains, shaking his head vigorously.

"Lovi,  _regreso al barco_." The Spaniard ordered him fiercely, and Lovino glared at his captain.

" _Scusi?_ What? No! The  _bastardo_ is lying! You have no right-"

"Go back right now, Lovino!" Antonio barked at him and Lovino, taken aback, scowled fiercely at both Alfred and Arthur, turned around as he hurried back to the Scarlet Fiesta. Arthur was smirking at him with hateful amusement.

"Keep your  _puto_ in line, Arthur." Antonio said lowly, his hand on his gun and the other close to his sword. He couldn't get them both in time though, because Arthur still had his aimed on the other. Also, Arthur's crew was closer than Antonio's, which would work in their advantage.

"Don't tempt me, Antonio." Arthur said back airily, as he flexed his fingers slightly. "I doubt your ship is repaired yet. I did remember you to be quite broke last time we met."

Antonio frowned and shrugged, crossing his arms. "My ship isn't a petty little boat like the English ones." He said back, but the insult hardly had any effect on his captain it seemed. "Where are you headed?"

"São Paulo de Loanda. You?"

This turned into a rather silly conversation. Alfred frowned at the both of them and wondered if he could just go back to the ship as well. There was a tenseness in his captain’s shoulders that convinced him to stay, however.

"Cape of Good Hope."

"Are you going to the East?" Arthur inquired, and it looked like mere curiosity this time, but Alfred wondered if he just wanted to confirm that they weren't going to the same way. Antonio shrugged again and a lopsided grin found his way on his face.

"¿ _Quién sabe?_ New England sounds a lot more attractive with you nearby after all. When were you planning sailing the Pirate round?"

"I don't think those seas are big enough for both of us, scumbag." Arthur sneered.

Antonio nodded and for a moment Alfred recognized something he had had himself in the past. What they had for each other hardly seemed hate… it was more some sort of rivalry. He heard that they knew each other too well, maybe too well to truly hate each other. Antonio suddenly looked back at Alfred, noticing he was still there, and scowled.

"I hereby warn you -  _stay away_." Antonio said to him threateningly, and just as Alfred wanted to nod and assure him he would never be near them again, Arthur chuckled and took a step back, his back softly colliding with Alfred’s chest, and he tried not the flinch at the slightly intimidating gesture.

"Get lost Antonio. I have no interest nor time for your petty little games."

Antonio, clearly not impressed, straightened up and took a step back as well. " _Adiós, mi amigo."_ He simply said, before he took a long look at Alfred. He smirked and mouthed something he couldn't make out, before turning around and taking strong strides back to his ship.

Arthur barked at his crew to stop lingering around, and they hastily got back to work, before he turned around and eyed Alfred up. "Straighten up, fool." Alfred quickly did as his captain said, flinching at the large bruise forming on his abdomen. Arthur frowned at that, and his hand rested on his abdomen as if to test where he got kicked. Somehow that did very strange things to Alfred, and he hurriedly took a tiny step back, to the amusement of his captain.

"Don’t you know how to dodge?" Arthur mocked and Alfred scoffed angrily, not minding the the way Arthur’s hand seemingly hovered in the air when he stepped back before it dropped to his side again.. "Why did you meet with the Italian?"

"He asked me… about-"

"Don't waste my time, Jones."

"He asked me about the location of someone called Beilschmidt, and when I found out... He was really desperate to know." Alfred hurriedly said, not missing the annoyed and impatient look Arthur gave him. To his surprise, Arthur started chuckling. It wasn't the kind of threatening or malicious chuckle he often used, it sounded like he was genuine.

He eventually nodded at Alfred. "Not many dare to disobey me when I give them a direct order." He started and Alfred gave a sheepish smile. "If I find you interacting with that bastard again, I will abandon you in the seas for the kraken. Clear?"

"As a crystal." Alfred nodded, and Arthur petted him on his shoulder approvingly. He ignored the urge to comment on how the kraken is a fable and doesn't exist, but Arthur would just scold him, and he knew it was meant as a threat and that he shouldn't take it literally. "How did you know?" Alfred asked, following the captain back onto deck, curiosity showing in his question.

"I think you are unfamiliar with the term 'secrecy'." Arthur replied with a smirk. "You were painfully obvious."

"Then who told you?"

Arthur halted and eyed him suspiciously, and Alfred was pleasantly surprised that he guessed correctly. Of course Arthur had eyes everywhere, being a captain and all. Arthur scoffed and relaxed slightly, his shoulders less tense.

"The idiot frog did." He said dismissingly and Alfred remembered the insult for the obnoxious, slightly strange French captain. "It appears he was present at the Italian's… reunion with his brother."

"Why was that Carriedo so angry with Lovino knowing?"

Arthur looked at him with irritation, probably because he didn't want to answer all those questions, but Alfred didn't falter. "Antonio took Lovino with him by force, thus separating the two brothers. He must have been afraid that his pet would run off with the other priest the moment they would reunite."

Alfred was silent for a while before his eyes widened.  _"Priest?"_

His captain smirked. "Both of the Italians are, or were, priests. Most pirates believe the greatest treasure is something from the church. It is the ultimate insult to the Pope, after all."

"But Lovino, isn’t he…"

"Committing sodomy? You are quite unfamiliar with the pirate's life, are you? Why would Antonio care about godly matters, he can get his fill by force or not. The Italian is just a smart little boy for accepting Antonio's affections."

Alfred swallowed at the dark look in his captain's eyes and he suddenly wondered if he too, had once done something like that, or is still doing that. He was slightly disturbed by the thought of his captain engaging himself in  _that_ activity with another man, but was also disturbed when he found himself slightly warm as he thought about his captain engaging in any kind of romantic activity.

Without really wanting too, he suddenly saw himself in Lovino's position with Arthur as his captain, and his blush grew so deep he stuttered to come up with an excuse for it. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him and suddenly Alfred wondered if Arthur would be dominant, even though Alfred was taller and bigger, and he had to refrain from slapping himself for even considering all of this. Arthur would gut him the moment he knew what Alfred was thinking.

"Do I want to know what you are thinking about, Alfred?" His blush worsened and he rapidly shook his head.

"Absolutely not! So! Eh, why did that Frenchie tell you anyway?" Alfred quickly asked, desperate to change the subject and Arthur's expression returned to neutral.

"Why shouldn't he? I don't gain anything from the fact." He remarked, and Alfred suddenly could see his captain and the French captain sitting at a table, conversing about trivial matters and exchanging gossip. "Anyway, we should continue. We will set sail in a few hours."

"Right. Where were we heading? Loando?"

"São Paulo de Loanda. It lies in Angola, south-central Africa." Arthur added helpfully, so that Alfred didn't feel completely stupid for not knowing the name at all. His captain passed him and walked over to the plank, before stopping in his tracks and turning around again.

"Those men you accused of treason ran away this night."

"Oh? I was right?"

"Don’t let it get to your head. We have an attack we need to prepare for. Perhaps the men have alerted whomever it was and they won't attack us. But I know most of my enemies are stubborn, and even not, we will prepare for any oncoming attacks anyway."

"Do we get attacked a lot?" He hadn't noticed any danger in his few weeks on the ship, and Arthur smirked.

"Ships such as the Scarlet Fiesta, La Liberté or die Ehrfurcht won't think about attacking us, and neither shall we." He said strongly, and Alfred wondered why they wouldn't attack the Scarlet Fiesta if they seemed to rival each other so much. "But there are enough enemies on sea."

"I guess so." Alfred agreed, wondering if there were any true enemies they should be watching out for.

"Have you ever fought before?"

"Yeah, sure."

"To the death?"

Alfred hesitated, wondering if lying would impress his captain. He’d probably see right through him.  “No.” He admitted, looking sideways when his captain’s gaze got a little intense. He knew that if worst come to worst, it was either kill or be killed in his situation. Or, he could hide, but then the crew would never let him live it down. And he wasn’t sure yet if he could remotely trust the crew as they were right now. They were _pirates_ still.

To his surprise, Arthur’s face remained impassive. “Don’t think about it too much.” He heard the other say, and he was grateful that he wasn’t mocked or patronized.

“But… they are people. They have families.”

Arthur did look a little irritated at that, as if talking to some child. “The risk that comes with the job. Do you suggest that pirates have no families?”

“I thought the general idea was that to become a pirate, you abandon your life.” Alfred clarified. Arthur looked at the ship, and if Alfred didn’t know any better he would describe the look in his eyes as a little lost.

“Abandoning an entire life is difficult. If you were to get to know the crew, you would think otherwise. Think of it as this. If you died, would your family be sad, knowing you are a pirate?”

He couldn’t disagree. Matthew would probably be angry that he was a pirate or something, but he would be sad. At least, Alfred would be. His brothers could be murderers, but their death would never be something pleasant. Taking his silence as an answer, Arthur nodded. “That is what I mean. In the end we all prefer to think our family loves us, unconditionally.” Alfred had to strain his ears to hear the last part, and he studied his captain. Had he experienced some hurt with his family himself? He could hardly imagine Arthur as a family man or a good son.

Their silence was broken when William shouted at Jones to come and help him with the sails, and Alfred cursed. Now that he didn’t help at all with the crates, he was probably going to have to do more shit later today. He walked up the plank to go and do what he was told, his gaze following as his captain disappeared into his quarters.

“Climb up the mast and untie the sails, would ye.”

Alfred obliged, feeling that he got better at climbing the mast every day. Sometimes he took watch atop of it, and although he was scared shitless the first time he had to get up there, he could understand the appeal. Sure enough he had plenty of dreams where he was soaring through the sky like some bird, and this could come pretty close, especially if they were on open sea. The _view_ was just spectacular. He tried not to convince himself that he could get used to this.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English isn't my first language.
> 
> Regreso al barco – Return to the ship  
> Scusi? – Excuse me?  
> Perro inútil – useless dog  
> ¿Quién sabe? – Who knows?
> 
> Brach – an Elizabethan slang for bitch hound
> 
> São Paulo de Loanda was a short name for São Paulo da Assunção de Loanda. Present day it's called Luanda. It was founded it 1575.


	6. Chapter 6

Normally when people would wake Alfred in the middle of the night for a guard shift, per say, he would throw his sorry excuse for a pillow and growl that he needed five more minutes. He remembered his mum always sighing fondly and ruffling his hair when he did so, before leaving the room for his five more minutes. Were he to take any longer, she would simply send Albert in. One time, she even sent him with a bucket of water, but Albert got so scared at the angry reaction it got out of his older brother, that Alfred had decided to just get out of bed the moment his youngest brother would enter the room.

Being the scary older brother wasn’t exactly on his to-do list.

With a pang he also remembered the slumber parties they used to have. Well, Albert was too young for it, but Matthew and him hosted one quite often. Usually they were just up talking for so long that they decided to just sleep in each other’s room rather than risk other people waking up by sneaking back.

Growling some more about getting up in the middle of the night, Alfred woke up entirely when he heard voices shouting up on the deck. He realized people around him were moving hurriedly, and realized that was why they woke him so roughly. He figured it had something to do with the warning about an attack, and wondered if it was taking place. Realizing it might very well be happening, Alfred shot up once ready and scrambled onto the deck, where the quartermaster was already shouting orders to the rest.

Scanning the Fo'c's'cle and upper decks he found his captain at the steering wheel, engaged in a heated discussion with his first mate. He looked on edge, but also remained that calm, eerie posture. Apparently he was caught staring, because Arthur locked his eyes onto him and beckoned him to come. Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw a ship approaching. He wondered if it were an enemy, but it probably had to be.

“Jones, you are to stay on the ship.” He ordered, sending William away again. Alfred realized that if ships came close enough, there would be an opportunity to cross. He figured he wasn’t going to anyway. Aside from being hesitant whether he would even make the cross instead of tumbling into the ocean, he wasn’t particularly interesting to go on a killing spree on another ship. “Go back and help Reggie.”

He was getting sick of being ordered around so much, but he figured that was the whole idea of this arrangement if he didn’t want to die. There was only so much freedom he – or any pirate on the ship – could have, after all. Alfred nodded, leaving to go below deck again to help Reggie with the cannons. Because of this he couldn’t really see what was going on. He refrained from asking too many questions however, seeing it was chaos. He wondered if the warning beforehand actually helped or not.

“Go upstairs Jones, we got this.” Reggie eventually said after everything was in place. The powder monkeys would be in charge of helping refill after all.

Upstairs, there was less chaos. It felt more like everyone was just waiting, while arranging some stuff here and there. Arthur was also calmly standing at the steer, his eyes fixed on the other ship as he was arranging the ship to try and keep a safe but acceptable distance were they to attack. Alfred felt a strange feeling in his gut. He didn’t realize before, but this was an attack. He could _die_. For Christ’s sake, he didn’t come all this way and swallowed all this bullshit just to die in some attack.

“Russian?” He heard someone inquire. There was a hum of agreement, and Alfred turned to the particular pirates. Upon his arrival and questioning glance, the pirate nodded back at the approaching ship. “Probably Russian. We hate them, they hate us. It’s stupid of them to approach though, after we have been warned. Their best tactic is surprise, what with all their might and numbers. Weird that there is only one too.”

“Do you think it’s going to attack then? Maybe they just want to make contact?”

“Mate, the rule with the Russians is to shoot first, act later.”

“I never even knew that Russians were on the seas as pirates.” Alfred mumbled. Then again, he wasn’t really that amazed. In the short time span of his time on this ship, he had already met more nationalities than he could even care to name. Most of the crew on the ship was English, but there was an odd one out too, which made him wonder where this ship had already travelled to before.

The ship got closer and closer, and Alfred could make out the details and the strange flag – pirate for sure, but he didn’t recognize anything else. His knowledge doesn’t extend very far though, but the by the way all the others were on edge, he was certain they weren’t friendly.

Eventually it seemed like both ships were just drifting silently on sea, staring at each other. He wondered if they would perhaps just pass them. He tried focussing a bit more, finding he had trouble more trouble than usual what with the sea air today, making out someone at the steering wheel. He probably had to be the captain as well, but he was nowhere as flamboyantly dressed as the captains he had met.

Just as he was to inquire whether this was a joke or not, a cannon shot was fired and chafed their ship on the side. He vaguely heard his captain and first master shouting to attack, before being shoved back. The pirates in front of him readied their guns, and all around him people climbed onto the masts or tightened ropes. Feeling a bit useless, he ran over to the cannons on the upper deck, near his captain, asking if he could be of assistance. There was no powder monkey, so he was in charge of just handing cannon balls over to the gunner.

Steering the ship to circle around the other, Arthur sneered. “Don’t give them chance to cross!” He bellowed, almost like routine. Despite his order, after a while and a few cracking shots on the ship, the other ship got close enough that more and more of the crew started to get ready to cross. He saw Arthur narrow his eyes in irritation, leaving the steering wheel to his first mate. He came to stand by the railings nearby Alfred, and he heard him mutter under his breath. “The fuck would he attack alone, where is Ivan…”

Hearing delighted battle cries, Alfred focused on the lower deck, and notices people crossing the line to the other ship with the help of some ropes. He grimaced at the idea of getting back up to the mast to attach new ropes, which was probably one of the shit tasks he was going to be assigned on. Arthur appeared very pissed, but oversaw the entire ordeal calmly, scanning the other ship thoroughly.

What happened next left Alfred a bit unimpressed. Once members of their crew had crossed, they were making very short work of the crew on the other ship. By Arthur’s grimace, he wondered if the captain had any idea of what exactly this was. It didn’t seem like a very professional attack. Still, he was taken by surprise when a loud cannon shot rang close to his ear. The captain, only a few feet next to him, didn’t flinch, but Alfred reared back and hit his head on a crate, his vision dizzy for a moment. The moment he focussed, he saw the man who gunned the cannon lying next to him.

Frowning, Alfred kicked at his shoulder. It wasn’t until he stood back up on wobbly feet, that he noticed the guy was losing pretty much his entire other side. He couldn’t really help himself – he threw up on the spot, horrified at what he was seeing. Realizing there was still danger, he stumbled back to the railings, searching for the source. Another shot, although a softer one, rang out, and he looked sideways to see that his captain had his gun out, apparently also having spotted the source of the earlier incident.

Arthur spared him a brief glance, before nodding back to the body behind him. “Go the other deck. It’ll be over soon.” Alfred didn’t even nod, left the captain and some of the other crewmates on the upper deck, and left. He had to get away from there, felt like he needed fresh air despite of being in open air, and despite of being in the middle of a fight. Although he had the sneaking suspicion that this was hardly a fight for them.

Arriving on the lower deck, he heard a loud boom and realized pirates from the other ship were also boarding this ship, in a vain attempt of trying to take them over. He tried avoiding the dangerous spots, but eventually found himself eye to eye with one of the enemies anyway. His mind short-circuited. What the fuck was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just kill that man! Apparently, that man had other ideas, and with a loud cry threw himself onto the other, his sword swinging madly at him.

Alfred snapped out of it in time to dodge, and kicked at the guys legs on instinct. It only made him stumble a bit, and Alfred scrambled to get away, stupidly realizing that he was running like a coward. He didn’t get very far though, the other man charging after him and slashing into his right bicep. He cried out in pain, whirling to get away from the offending sharp object. Shit, he had a gun, he had to use it.

Fumbling to get his gun out of his belt – this was the first time he was actually getting it out to do something other than clean it or remove it for sleep – he shakily aimed it at the other guy, who grinned. He sneered at him in a language that Alfred couldn’t even recognize, and it sounded awful nonetheless. He didn’t seem very frightened by the idea of Alfred holding a gun to him. He probably even looks like a swabbie.

Closing is eyes the moment the other guy charged again, Alfred clenched his fingers and pulled the trigger, hearing the loud thud as a result. Opening his eyes to assess what had happened, and whether he hadn’t actually been ran through on the sword, he saw that the man was now on the ground, clutching the area where his lung would be. He wheezed, and cursed at Alfred in his own language, and Alfred froze. What the fuck now? Was he supposed to leave him there?

The question was answered for him, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone shove him away. Ralph pointed his gun to the man’s head on the ground, to which the man spat profanities at him, and pulled the trigger. The man’s head didn’t quite explode, but it might as well have, and Alfred ran to the nearby railing, heaving over it again. There was probably nothing left in his stomach by now.

 _Jesus._ That man probably had a family. A mother waiting for him at home, or a wife. Or maybe even a kid! He felt sicker and sicker.

The noise calmed down as he stared at the ocean below him, and he heard someone laugh at him. “Snap outta it Jones. Ye look like a ghost.” Ralph mocked, before leaving to stand with the other crewmates. Alfred didn’t even had it in him to curse back, and instead turned around as well, trying to ignore the occasional body here and there. He noticed his captain walking back to the ship over the plank – when did he cross anyway – in strong, even steps. Alfred would probably fall right down that plank, with what how the waves were moving the ships.

Some of the guys around him were bawling and cat-calling, and Arthur stepped of the plank with a smirk, his quartermaster behind him and pushing the guy he thought was the captain in front of him, also on the ship. He noticed that there was still crew on the other ship, rummaging around.

Arthur stopped in the middle of the deck, turning around to the captive, who was pushed to the ground. “What I’m really wondering, Raivis, is why you are here alone.” Arthur demanded, looking severely unimpressed.

The captive, Raivis, looked close to crying, and Alfred realized he looked really young. Like, not old enough to be a captain. _Was_ he even a captain? He was only more certain of the age of this guy when he spoke up, stuttering, begging for his life. Arthur scoffed.

“Did Ivan send you? He must have known about the warning. Why did you still come? Are you still so desperate to please him?” He sneered, and people around him laughed. So they knew this guy? And who was this Ivan guy anyway?

There was a sudden loud explosion coming from the other ship, and Arthur and Raivis both looked over in surprise. Someone he recognized, Tim, came up on the deck of the ship and hurried over to cross to his own. “Captain! The ship is loaded with explosions. William and I, we found out, but one was rigged to explode already. He’s dead.”

Arthur sighed. “A suicide mission, really? It would’ve been smarter to just ram into us then, Raivis.” He aimed his gun to the man. Raivis began stuttering something else, Alfred couldn’t quite hear, but Arthur didn’t take the time to hear it and shot him straight between the eyes. Alfred sucked in a breath, not prepared to see _another_ murder so quickly. He swallowed the rising bile, trying to keep up appearances for once. “Put the explosives on the top of the deck. We’ll fire at them from a distance so the ship’ll blow up.” Arthur ordered without a beat. “Throw the rest of their crew in the water.”

Alfred resisted the urge to disagree out loud. He fixed the captain with a glare, disapproving, but figured he wouldn’t have a say in it unless he wanted to end up in the sea too. Some people grabbed the dead body of the Raivis guy, slinging him overboard as well.

Noticing his captain was heading back to his quarters, he steeled his nerves and followed after him, not bothering to knock and just heading inside. Arthur noticed him, but waved at him dismissingly and sat down at his desk, his hands massaging his temples.

Slightly weirded out by the sudden moment of vulnerability, Alfred shut the door behind him and slowly made his way to the desk. “What the fuck?” He eventually managed to choke out, catching the other man’s attention again.

“You’ll have to elaborate, Jones. I can’t read minds.”

“That was way too easy. Were you even concerned? And who was that guy? Who is Ivan? Why the fuck are we killing all those people-“

“Oh for the love of- _shut up_.” Arthur growled once Alfred started into a rant. He snapped his mouth shut and glared at the captain, his hands balled into fists. “I don’t _know_ why Raivis decided to attack us. It was very amateurish. I can only assume the original plan was for Ivan to attack. Once he knew we had a warning, he must have backed off. Sending Raivis… was probably a suicide mission, however.”

“Why would the other guy do that? Is he under this Ivan’s command?”

Arthur scowled at the continuous line of questions, and ran a hand through his hair after taking his hat off. He had to raise his arm for the motion, and Alfred spotted a few specks of blood on his otherwise white blouse underneath his coat. He wonder if it was his, or someone else. He doesn’t look wounded, so probably the latter. Despite the somewhat disorientated and annoyed look that Arthur was projecting, Alfred appreciated that he still managed to look as magnificent as always. His eyes, if possible, were even a fiercer shade of green, and his brows were stuck in an angry frown. His lean body was tense, but not so that it was overly obvious. He watched Arthur scanning the map underneath him, searching for something.

Alfred remembered how he walked between the chaos of the fight and between the corpses lying around, and felt something strangely akin to respect. Alfred had been heaving over the railings, but the smaller man had looked like nothing was going on, wandering around like he owned the place – which he did, so yeah.

“Alfred.” He snapped out of his daze at the use of his real name, and felt warmth creeping up his neck. The captain only ever used his first name when he was scowling or berating him, but it sounded genuine and maybe a tick bored now… and if he had to be honest, he thought he heard something else as well. He wasn’t sure what, but the captain regarded him closely.

“I’m fine.” He answered. He knew he had to be looking like shit. His arm was still thumping, but he knew the wound would be superficial. It stung, but it wouldn’t kill him, and the bleeding had probably already stopped, his shirt clotting against the wound.

“I watched you on the deck, just now. You disappointed me.” It didn’t sound very disappointing though, so instead of being offended, Alfred raised an eyebrow. It didn’t sound disappointing at all. “I’m promoting you to rigger. I heard you’ve taken to climbing up the mast and overlooking the view, so you should adjust nicely.”

Huh, so no more swabbing the decks or running silly little errands. Alfred nodded, he could live with being a rigger for the time being. It occurred to him that he had initially thought about being a rigger permanently, realizing his plan was to escape the ship soon. Right? Weirdly enough he had started to appreciate this life. But the attack and murders he had witnessed made him re-evaluate his thoughts.

Arthur glared at him, and he coughed, straightening his shoulder. “Thank you, sir.” The glare subsided at that, the other man’s gaze once again on the maps. Alfred wondered if that meant he was dismissed or not. He heard sounds outside, people being ordered around to get ready to set sail and to clean up. “If I may ask… who is Ivan?”

There was a short silence, before his captain sighed and his shoulders sagged slightly. He fixed Alfred with a pointed glare, before softening a bit and shaking his head. “A dangerous man, Jones. He used to work with me, Francis and Antonio, but… well, we are all pirates, so I suppose we are all rogue. But we stick to the code. And he doesn’t always do that.”

“The code?”

The captain scoffed. “Of course you don’t know the code. It’s an entire list, I’m not going to name it. Can you read?” Alfred nodded. Arthur leaned back and opened a drawer, getting out a document of sorts. “Then read this. I've taken the liberty to copy some of the rules. Get acquainted with it, if you’re planning on surviving.”

“What, right now?”

“Do you want to scrap the blood and guts of the deck, instead?”

 _Good point._ Alfred grimaced as his captain grinned at him, and sat in one of the chairs, leaning back. He opened the medium-sized book, and saw that it was indeed already entire list. According to Arthur, this wasn't even all of it.

He read through it quietly, hoping he was going to mesmerize what he could. The most important things were kind of obvious though. The entire trust no man business, and do your work for your pay part. He read that while docked at some havens, you were not to be attacked, and figured that was what Arthur meant when he had asked if La Coruña was safe. He read about the curfew, which Arthur too used, albeit in more flexible terms. He also read something about fights on deck being illegal, and a good cause for execution. He sneaked a glance at his captain who was leaning over the maps, and vowed to not get into any quarrels with Ralph on deck anymore. Better not push his luck.

Roughly an hour later, Alfred had a gist of what was in it. Some of the things were too complicated and he had no desire to mesmerize, such as the payment details. It was quite obvious he wasn’t included in that part. There was more about how a pirate was handled when it would be injured or unfit for his previous job, but he’d figure that out if it actually happened. He also read that the captain was pretty much not to be questioned, though the crew had to vote to elect a captain or quartermaster, so he figured that if the crew had elected Arthur, that they trusted him with decisions too.

He closed the book and placed it on the edge of the desk. Arthur leaned back in his chair again and eyed him with a questioning gaze. Alfred smiled somewhat shyly. “So, judging by this, I’m still considered a stowaway or captive, huh.”

“To be honest, Jones, loyal, hardworking men, are hard to come by these days. I’ve given you a job, a bed and food, but you are nowhere in the position to be asking for more.” Arthur concluded, looking him up and down. Alfred frowned at the somewhat appreciative glint that settled into Arthur’s eyes when they locked with his own. “You’ve proven yourself quite the obedient pirate so far.” Eyes settling on the wound on his arm, Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Get that patched up and get some rest.”

That was definitely a dismissal. Alfred cheekily grinned and left the cabin with a salute, Arthur rolling his eyes at him as he went. Well, that went better than expected. And like he said, he at least got somewhat of a position here now. At least he wouldn’t be called a swabbie anymore, or cabin boy.  

The deck was more or less clean already, and he sighed in relief. The day as really getting to him, and he felt on edge and anxious. Fortunately most of the crew steered out of his way, and he wondered if they were once in his position. Throwing up and trying not to cry at your first attack, and all. Ralph even offered to patch his arm up, and he allowed it without much protest – he was the apprentice to the surgeon slash carpenter so he was more than capable of doing so. After that, he decided that if they needed him, they would bother him, and he went to his hammock to rest.

Once lying down, Alfred slung his good arm over his face and bit his lip harshly. He felt tired, drained, and just wanted to… no, he wasn’t going to cry. He was almost eighteen, damn it. And until he found a way to safely get of this ship, he had to toughen up. With his feet, he gently managed to rock  his hammock, and longingly thought of home. While this was still better than being married of and forced to love some random girl, he missed his home and the fireplace, his father reading the paper and the friendly wrestling with his brothers. He missed his mother and how she hummed songs while making dinner, and his eyes burned. He had said goodbye to that life, he had to start acting like it. Besides, they were better off this way. Matthew was probably already getting them out of debts.

Some other men stumbled in, complaining about how they lost the first mate and some other people. The other piped in that this meant they were probably going to stay docked on the next stop longer, to perhaps search for new people. Alfred had completely forgotten about William, the poor man.

After a few minutes of dozing off, Alfred felt the steady rhythm of the ship setting sail again, and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English isn't my first language.
> 
> Raivis was Latvia, by the way. Sorry Latvia! 
> 
> powder monkeys – younger boys who would run from deck to deck to deliver cannonballs and gunpowder
> 
> I’m using different kinds of documented pirate codes, as well as fictional ones (like the one in Pirates of the Caribbean). Those who are most in common will be used too.. some of the rules are as following:
> 
> \- Freeports are a safe haven and there shall be no fighting (hence the; Ivan wouldn’t attack while were are docked)  
> \- Distrust your neighbours for they are pirates too (every man for himself)  
> \- He who falls behind shall be left behind  
> \- Take what you can and give nothing back  
> \- no prey, no pay (i.e. do your share of work)  
> \- deserters will go to Davy Jones’ locker  
> \- Lights and candles must be out by eight o'clock. If any man desires to drink after such time, he shall do so on the open deck without lights.  
> \- A captive has the right to declare parlay, or temporary protection, until he may have an audience with the enemy captain. At this point, he cannot be harmed. Parlay is not considered concluded until said captives and captains have completed negotiations.  
> \- No pirate shall strike another while onboard the ship. In the event of such an occurrence, the quarrel shall be resolved on the shore by a pistol, sword, or in another agreed upon manner as deemed by the captain. (this is why Arthur reacted strongly to the fistfights on ships)  
> \- All adherents of the Code pledge to be bound together as a brotherhood of pirates, sharing alike in one's fortunes and troubles.  
> \- No gambling with money (objects are okay)
> 
> I am not going into payment details, but they roughly follow by Henry Morgan’s code. Alfred however is still considered somewhat of a stowaway / captive, so he is excluded from this part.


	7. Chapter 7

“We will continue to Loanda.” Arthur announced to no one in particular, his hands on the steering wheel and his gaze at the sea. “We will have to stay longer than planned. While there, we repair the ship and restock.” He discussed something with the old quartermaster, now the first mate. James was a very lightly tanned man, and one night had told them how Arthur had picked him up from the islands of Seychelles a few years prior, and had quickly worked himself up as the quartermaster.

Now that he was first mate, the crew had elected the eerily calm but stern Leon as the new quartermaster. Alfred heard he originated from Hong Kong, but had found his way onto the ship when they were once docked in France, and that was all he knew.

Alfred walked up to the upper deck, his hands clear of tasks and the ship in no immediate need of riggers. “…and see if you can find some new recruits.” He heard the end of his captain’s order, and James nodded and left. Leon was quietly conversing with some gunners in the back, and Alfred turned to Arthur, who was already looking at him expectantly. “What is it?”

“You know a lot of people, huh? I mean, even the crew is very diverse. How many countries have you been to?”

Arthur smirked and shrugged, focussing on the ship and the seas again. “I’m not counting. I haven’t seen the world, yet.” He said wishfully, and Alfred grinned. The way that Arthur sometimes talked about the sea and the pirate round he hoped to sail soon, it was clear he was passionate about seeing as much as he could.

“I can see the appeal to that.” He nodded, thinking that seeing the world would be a really awesome experience. Especially since he was kind of still stuck in the ‘forced marriage and boring work for the rest of his life’ idea. The longer he was on the ship, the more he understood the appeal. Maybe instead of escaping to land, he’d just start working for other supply ships. The navy wouldn’t be a good idea, he thought, in case anyone else recognized him. Not that he met a lot of pirates, but he’d rather not take the risk.

“So I was wondering…” He started after a while, hesitant. He knew the captain was in his own way grateful that he helped with the warning and all. And the guilt of abandoning his family was still eating away at him at night. Arthur looked at him impatiently, and he averted his eyes to the ground. “I know I’m a stowaway and all, but when you were talking about family the other day, I… well, I would love it if I could earn a bit of money or something, just the tiniest bit, to send home. To help them. Just because I ran and abandoned them, doesn’t mean I want… that I want to leave them to their fate.”  He finished the entire sentence rather quickly, hoping the captain wouldn’t be mad, but how could he, right? Even he was human, right?

To his credit, Arthur seemed to take it into consideration. He hummed and looked back to the seas again, that dreamy look appearing on his face and Alfred sometimes wondered if he was perhaps looking at things that Alfred couldn’t see. He tried to look as innocently as possible, even opting for a bit of puppy eyes when the captain looked back at him to look him over. It looked like it worked, or Alfred hoped it did. Otherwise he would just be a fool for trying.

“Leave the address of your family’s home at my desk.” Alfred knew that could be dangerous. He might as well have given Arthur his family in his hands to blackmail him with their murder. But he doubted that Arthur’s intentions were anything but.. well, not pure, he was a pirate. But he wouldn’t go back on his word, according to that long ass list of the Code. “I will see to it, that if you do your work, what should originally be your share might be send to them.” Alfred resisted the urge to whoop.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Remember that I am being generous here. I expect something in return.” The leer that accompanied the demand made Alfred’s stomach do weird things, and he wondered why. His captain was just implying that Alfred had to work for his pay, right? His cheeks heated a little and he cursed himself, trying to regain his composure.

“I promise to alert you of any more plans of attacks.” He said dryly, and Arthur barked out a surprised laugh, looking at him with genuine amusement. Alfred grinned as well, loving the fact he coaxed some laughs out of the other man.

“Yes, we all know how very _heroic_ you are.”

“I have to be, for all the damsels in distress on this ship. What would they do without me?”

“What, indeed. Speaking of damsels in distress, I see that Tim is having issues with the mast. So get to work.” Arthur’s eyes twinkled as he nodded to the main mast, high in the air. Alfred saluted and bowed with a grin, skipping down the deck. His stomach was still doing funny things, but he wrote it off as excitement. Being able to just jovially talk with the captain, well, two months ago he would have shat his pants.

Tim thanked him when he arrived and helped him with knotting the new ropes together so the sail would be more secure.  “I don’t know why you like being a rigger, Jones.” He said after they finished. “It’s nerve-wrecking.”

“I like being up in the air, I suppose.” He grunted as he pulled the ropes to check them for security. “How much longer before we reach Loanda, you think?”

“A week or less. The wind is in our favour.”

The day continued normally, and at the beginning of the evening Alfred noticed the ship was coming to a halt. He looked around questioningly, wondering how he was still out of the loop of just about everything. Fortunately, more people were this time, and Leon informed them that they had signalled an ally pirate ship, and were waiting for them so they could make contact. More information wasn’t given, and Alfred thought about the Frenchman. Carriedo doesn’t seem like he would fit in the ally category. He briefly thought of the Beilschmidt captain as well, but he had never really met or seen him. It didn’t take very long for two ships, one as big as the Emerald Dragon, and one smaller, to approach them. They stayed a fair distance away, but with lights signalled their own ship.

Arthur left his cabin and went to one of the other decks, where a pinnace was already prepped for leaving. Passing Alfred and his curious gaze, Arthur smirked and asked if he wanted to come along with him and James. Alfred jumped at the opportunity, because he was nothing if not really curious. He tried to reign in his eagerness a bit when he saw Leon shaking his head disapprovingly at him. Leon informed the crew that he would be in charge for as long as the captain was indisposed, and Alfred shakily stepped into the pinnace after Arthur and James. Two other crewmen joined as well, taking position to row the boat.

“Who are they?” Alfred finally asked, impressed by the speed that the men were able to row. The distance wasn’t very big this way.

“The ship is called the Midsommarafton. It’s commandeered by captain Berwald Oxenstierna.” James explained. “They apparently use one ship to store their supplies, which is why they travel with two.”

“Personally, I think it’s to show off.” Arthur interrupted. “Sailing with two ships is dangerous and impractical. ” He agreed with the captain silently. It did seem dangerous. Surely the supply ship would go down first in a fight, and then they would be without supplies. Arriving closer to the ship, he realized that theirs wasn’t as big as the Emerald Dragon – the Emerald Dragon seemed like a small boat compared to this one. He was impressed, wondering how many people would have to be on there to make it operate. Arthur smirked at his wide eyed gaze. “As I said, he is a show off.”

 _As if Arthur and his big flamboyant coat and his ridiculous eyebrows isn’t._ Alfred’s mind helpfully replied. Fortunately he didn’t voice his thoughts. They arrived at the ship and climbed up. He grunted at the effort and the long climb, and looking up he saw that his captain had absolutely no trouble at all. He lifted himself up the ladder with an ease Alfred could only dream of. Finally at the top, he had to heave himself over the railings and had to make an effort not to fall over, exhausted from the climb. The ship was a lot bigger than he initially thought.

Once on deck, they were greeted with what had to be the tallest man Alfred has ever seen. He looked way more intimidating than Arthur. Especially because Arthur dwarfed in comparison, he was already smaller than Alfred, but this was just ridiculous. The foreign captain didn’t seem to partake in the weird contest of flamboyancy however, and wore a simply, dark blue coat, a gorgeous gem-imbedded sword resting at his belt. He more than noticed the sudden shift in his own captain’s stance – the tension bled out of him, and a genuine grin found a way on its place. He and the foreign captain clasped arms together, nodding a greeting at each other.

Behind the giant of a man, Alfred noticed a smaller appearance, a tad taller than Arthur but still smaller than Alfred. He was dressed much the same as his captain, but had opted for light blue instead. Instead of the short blonde buzz-cut his captain had, his face was framed by a blonde mop of hair. He looked surprisingly… soft and young, for a pirate. Alfred almost wanted to call it feminine.

He watched, somewhat uncomfortably, as the foreign captain and his own quietly conversed. As it was already dark, not a lot of the crew was on deck. At least, Alfred couldn’t believe this was all, so he thought some of them were already below deck. He looked at James for more clarification of the ship and its occupants. James leant over a bit, quietly explaining.

“They’re Scandinavian.” He said, as if Alfred had any idea of where they originated from. “Swedish. Though the first mate,” he nodded over to the feminine looking man, “is Finnish, I think. Them and the captain have been working together for as long as I’ve been aboard.”

"His first mate looks very young.” Alfred whispered, looking the man over again. He almost just wanted to call him a boy. Said boy looked over to him and gave him a bright smile, and Alfred averted his eyes.

“Aye, he’s older than he looks. I think the Finnish famine is to blame.”

At that moment, Arthur and the foreign captain nodded and left to what Alfred thought were the captain’s quarters. James found someone he apparently knew, leaving Alfred to his thoughts. He wondered what working together with another pirate ship meant. Did they exchange knowledge, did they raid together? The idea of pirates having allies seemed sort of silly, but there was a whole brotherhood of pirates he read about in the Code. Alfred, devoid of any task or idea of what he had to do, leaned on the railings and looked at the ship. It looked very basic, not a lot of decorations, but it was big and the wood was beautiful.

He noticed that the young boy didn’t follow the captains into the quarters, but was instead walking over to him. Despite the young innocent look he was radiating, his steps were confident and strong. “Hello.” He offered in greeting. “Are you Kirkland’s new quartermaster?” The accent in his voice was very strong, but not entirely unpleasant.

Alfred shook his head. “No, I’m.. a rigger, actually. My captain offered me to come along.”

“Oh! Are you the stowaway then?” _How_ did he know that? He hadn’t seen a ship like this on the docks of La Coruña. He would’ve known if they met them. At his confusion, the other laughed. “Berwald and Kirkland communicate through ravens, occasionally.” He offered as explanation. Huh. Alfred would never dare call his captain by his first name so casually. “My name is Tino Väinämöinen!”

“Bless you.” Alfred said before really thinking, because what the hell was that last name supposed to be. Fortunately, Tino was not offended.

“Yes, I know.”

“Alfred Jones.” He looked the man up and down again, and got the general idea that he was actually pretty kind and pleasant to talk to. “If ya don’t mind me asking… how old are you exactly?”

Tino looked surprised, but laughed. "I get that a lot. I'm eighteen. You?"

"Almost eighteen. You look… never mind."  _Damn_ , he was  _older_.

"I look younger,  _minä tiedän_.." Alfred looked at him weirdly before Tino caught himself and smiled. "Sorry, that means 'I know' in Finnish. I'm kind of used to people understanding me on my ship. A lot of people on our ship our Finnish too, you know, because Finland is one of the four Swedish lands? So I can still talk Finnish to some people, that's really nice. I also know Swedish though, Berwald taught me so I could converse with him when – Oh,  _olen pahoillani_ , sorry. I'm rambling."

Alfred grinned. "That's all right." God knows how often he does it when he's nervous. Even though the boy was his age, Alfred felt a strong urge to raise his hand and ruffle his hair like he would with a younger brother, but refrained from doing so.

"So you are an Englishman?" Tino asked politely and Alfred nodded. "Kirkland usually only takes Englishmen on his crew. Of course there are exceptions." Alfred thought of James and Leon. He was pretty sure there was an Asian on the crew too, but he kept to himself immensely. “I heard you guys had trouble with the Russians?”

Alfred wondered if he was supposed to talk about that, so he opted for a nod and a shrug, and Tino seemed to catch on to his hesitation. It didn’t matter, the boy easily changed the subject. “So, Loanda, huh. Can’t say I’m a fan of the place. We did pick up Mathias there, though.” He said thoughtfully, and at the sound of the name someone joined them, locking his arm around the Tino’s shoulder.

“Gossiping about little old me?” He said cheerfully, and Alfred noticed another guy approaching them. The newest addition was fixing Mathias with a glare, and Tino was released. “Oh come on Lukas, baby, you’re not still mad are you?” Tino rolled his eyes as Alfred watched the exchange with slight confusion.

“Mathias, Lukas, this is Kirkland’s newest addition. Alfred, was it?” He nodded and accepted Mathias his enthusiastic handshake.

“The stowaway!” _Does everyone here know this?_ “You must have had quite the impression on dear old Kirkland there. It’s not very common to let a swabbie come along!”

“I’m a rigger.” Alfred said defensively. Swabbie was a common insult on his own ship, he had noticed, and he was more than glad to be promoted from that position. Mathias offered him a knowing smirk.

The other guy, Lukas apparently, tugged on Mathias’ sleeve. “ _Jeg er træt_.” He muttered, and Mathias wrapped an arm around his waist. Alfred suddenly understood a bit more than just now, and turned beet red, which caused Mathias to laugh at his expression and to leer at him as he said his goodbyes and tugged the other down below deck. Tino rolled his eyes.

“Those aren’t exactly the most well behaved people,” He said. “but they’re okay if you get to know them.”

“Are they…” He couldn’t help but ask. Tino raised his eyebrows, and his stance got a bit more defensive. Alfred wondered at that. “Not that I mind. I mean, not my business.” He quickly added. Tino nodded, relaxing a bit more, but eyeing him with suspicion nonetheless. Alfred suddenly remembered the giant captain from before. Now that he thought about it, he had seen something akin to adoration in Tino’s eyes when he had inspected him at first. He resisted a scowl. Literally every captain he met had… oh well, maybe it was a pirate thing.

Before he could put the foot in his mouth any deeper, Tino was called away by a younger boy, probably a cabin boy. Alfred looked back at the captain’s quarters, light burning behind the windows. Suddenly he felt like icy water was dumped on him, as he wondered if they were even _discussing_ something in there… or doing something else. Like he said, maybe it was a pirate thing. He was horrified frankly, but he wasn’t sure why. The idea of two men didn’t really bother him; he had never actually thought about it before.

He was invited to have a drink by James and some of the ship’s crewmates, and spend another hour just sitting and quietly conversing about trivial things. Tino had joined, and eventually they had gotten to talk about how Tino got on the ship, seeing as he already knew Alfred’s story. Apparently his captain had saved him as a boy from the famine in Finland, which Alfred heard was a country north in Europe. The way he talked and moved, Alfred got the impression that Tino wasn’t that innocent or young acting after all. Of course, to be a pirate, you had to own at least some slyness or wit.

It was another hour when the doors beneath them opened, and he, Tino and James stood up to join their captains. Arthur looked pleased with himself, but also still as immaculate as he did when he boarded, so Alfred decided that they were probably just discussing matters in there. For some reason, he vigorously hoped so.

“Berwald!” Tino called pleasantly. Standing next to him, he pointed to Alfred. “The new rigger.” Alfred, surprised at the sudden scrutiny, nodded at the other captain, who spared him a few glances before focussing back to Arthur, Tino still by his side.

“If our business is concluded, I will be heading back to my ship.” Arthur announced, and Berwald nodded.

“Yes. Tino, go get th’ tr’ties downstairs.” Wow, so Tino’s accent wasn’t all that bad after all.

“The treaties? Got it.” Tino disappeared down the same area that Mathias and Lukas had disappeared into, returning roughly half a minute later with documents in his hand, and handing them to Arthur.

“We should meet up sometime, Kirkland!” Tino requested with a smile. To his surprise, Arthur nodded and returned the smile in kind. It wasn’t a malicious or teasing smile, it looked genuine, and Alfred’s stomach flipped. He had never seen such an earnest smile on the other’s face before, and it brought all of the right features on his face to attention. _For the love of-_ what was wrong with him? Inappropriate thoughts about his captain were _not_ allowed in his head.

Arthur had already started to walk back to the pinnace, fixing Alfred with a questioning look, and Alfred quickly followed after. “Goodbye, Alfred!” To be friendly, Alfred offered Tino a small wave and a smile. He didn’t know why, but they seemed pretty nice. If it weren’t for the knowledge that had been disclosed earlier, Alfred wouldn’t think they were pirates at all.

Rowing back to their own ship, Alfred eyed the documents in his captains hands. He was debating whether he could ask about those treaties, when Arthur caught his eyes and wiggled his hand a little, demanding Alfred’s focus on his face rather than hands.

“Treaties,” he said, not very helpfully because Alfred hadn’t been deaf just now. “From Ivan to the Dutch and English navy.” At the apparent confusion on his face, Arthur scowled lightly but explained further. “Showing these to others could help.” Was all he got. Alfred nodded, deciding not to push.

“Will they come with us?” Alfred asked curiously, changing the subject.

“Not _with_ us, but if they plan to sail the same route they are free to do so.” He explained curtly and Alfred nodded, silencing. They arrived back at their ship, and the trek up the ladder was still pretty difficult, and he was glad once he was on deck. He was about to head to the main deck, when Arthur beckoned him to the steering wheel with him.

"You steer."

Alfred gaped at him, but at his captain's annoyed glare quickly did as he was expected to. He noticed James fixing him with yet another disapproving glance, but chose to ignore it in favour of smiling brightly. Steering the wheel, he imagined it was just as good as sitting on top of the mast. He go to oversee the entire ship. He thought about how long he had already been here, roughly two months, and that it was the longest he has ever been away from his home. And he as nearby Africa, as well! They had docked at a tiny dock somewhere west of Africa the day after the attack, but it had been for such a short time, that Alfred had barely seen the place from outside on the deck.

"Concentration, Alfred." Arthur voice and use of his first name snapped him back to reality, though he wondered what there was to concentrate. All he had to do was make sure the steer didn't get a mind of his own, quite easy really. Arthur was sitting on the rails in front of the steer, looking at him intensely.

Alfred risked a smile and a nod, and Arthur had a somewhat pleased look, before he turned his head slightly to watch the increasing distance between them and the… what was it, the Midsommarafton? Deciding that his captain was just teasing because there was only miles and miles of seas in front of them, and as long as he held the steer and didn’t move they wouldn’t be off course, Alfred took the opportunity to study his captain. He had been seeing him in quite some different lights lately, and he was unsure where he stood exactly, in regards of being some untrustworthy stowaway, or a dependable pirate, or whatever.

Even though the slight exhaustion apparent, Arthur still looked dangerous and mighty, sitting on the rails with his legs propped against the decorations.

His red coat hung loosely on his shoulders, and underneath that he wore a loose white shirt he had tucked into his black trousers, two belts around his waist to hold his gun and his sword. There was also a piece of cloth wrapped around his narrow waist, and there was a purple gem that held the ruches on his shirt together. If you looked more closely you could see a necklace with an emerald around his neck, but it was fairly dark at night around here, so he wasn’t sure of the colour. The hat was nowhere to be seen though, and his unkempt blonde hair moved with- _woah_.

"You seem to be on good terms with them." Alfred said, clearing his throat, distracting himself by mentioning the other ship. Arthur gave no sign that he heard him for a few seconds, before nodding.

"Berwald is a man I find worthy to respect." Alfred smiled, knowing that Arthur undoubtedly thought something of the other captains he had met when there was a slight distaste in his eyes. "I guess I owe them, as well."

Arthur smiled, and again, it was genuine. It was almost a gentle smile. Alfred stared at him in surprise, feeling the heat on his cheeks. He averted his eyes from the happy look on his captain's face. _Blasted_.

They sat in silence for a while. Alfred noticing that eventually Arthur closed his eyes and leaned his head back a bit. First, he was worried he might fall down or something, but the twirling of his fingers against the wood proved Arthur was very awake.

The moment felt almost peaceful. There was a little noise from the crewmembers downstairs getting ready for their night shift or to go to bed, and a little noise from objects being moved or opened, some shouting from the top of the mast to the people down it. He smiled and focused on the sound of the seas. He could see why people would want to be a pirate. Heck, as a kid he wanted to be a pirate too, he wanted to be a hero.

But now he saw that it was also… freeing. As if you controlled all those seas stretched out in front of you. You could go wherever you would want to go, fight anyone you want to, drink, sleep… technically, you were just really free. You only had to maintain the one thing that helped the freedom – the ship. And obey the captain of course, but without him you wouldn't be on the ship.

Alfred looked back and noticed the two Scandinavian ships were now way behind them. He knew they would attract a lot of attention if they sailed nearby each other, so if they were going to the same way, it was only reasonable they kept such a big distance from each other.

"Why's that?" Alfred suddenly asked, reminiscing about the earlier conversation. "Why do you owe them? Isn't that dangerous?"

Arthur opened his eyes and gave him a small glare for intruding on personal information. He looked down and was about to apologize when Arthur sighed. Afraid to look up because it might spur Arthur to keep the answer for himself, Alfred kept his head down and strained his ears.

"I come from a parentless family." Arthur started in a low voice, almost a whisper. "My three brothers left early and I was left to fend off my younger brother and I. I abandoned him to become a pirate."

There was a pregnant silence, and Alfred looked up slightly to see Arthur had his eyes closed again. He wondered if Arthur thought he would ridicule him for it, but he guess he could understand the situation. Who knew how old either of them were? If there was any blame, that would be on his three brothers or perhaps even his parents.

"Berwald was in England at that time. He found my brother causing trouble at the docks and provided him with a safe family in Sweden." This Berwald seemed to have a kind heart, Alfred confirmed. He saved Arthur's brother, he saved Tino from the famine in Finland. He wondered who else on that ship owed their captain. "I met him seven years ago, a few weeks after I became captain. He saw the resemblance."

"You've been captain for seven years?" Alfred couldn't help but blurt out, and at Arthur's slightly amused look he grinned embarrassingly.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Ancient." Alfred said very seriously. Arthur raised an eyebrow and Alfred burst out in laughter. "No! Kidding! I don't know… twenty five?" At Arthur's silence, he prodded a little more. "Am I right? Or close?"

Arthur sighed. "I am twenty six." At this, Alfred stayed silent. His fearful, scary and powerful captain, was not that much older than him, after all. "Do you think about your family often, Jones?"

The question was so random that Alfred was momentarily taken aback, before he shrugged. "I try not to, but I guess I think a lot about Mattie and mum. Matthew is me younger brother." Alfred clarified. "He's going to be replacing me now that I'm gone. And I kinda miss me youngest brother, I guess. Albert always thought I was a hero and all and I felt like a wonderful older brother." Alfred added with an empty laugh. "I don't think he'll think the same of me now. Hero's don't disappear or get killed, after all."

"That thought will only be temporary." Arthur provided silently and Alfred shrugged. "It wasn't your fault you got murdered,  _if_  they believed your little stunt."

"Nor was it that you abandoned him." Alfred blurted out and he immediately regretted it. Arthur tensed and glared at him with angry eyes. It wasn't his fault really, Arthur did tell him all that and Alfred had the right to talk about it if Arthur brought on the subject, right?

Arthur abruptly stood back on the deck and turned around. "Captain, I-" Arthur shut him up with a glare.

“Go back to your hammock, Jones.” He all but shoved Alfred aside to stand at the wheel, and Alfred slumped a little, glaring at Arthur’s back. Arthur didn't allow him to get too personal, and he understood it, but he still felt disappointed.

The rest of the trip to Loanda he was pretty much ignored by his captain, but he steered clear off him too. Obviously, he had overstepped one of those earlier mentioned boundaries, and Alfred felt more than grateful he got off so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. English is not my first language.
> 
> Jeg er træt - I am tired
> 
> \- I called Seychelles James, after their first president. Also, I made Seychelles male, for the sake of the story. Also, yeah, there will be cases like Mary Read, but Seychelles isn't one of them.  
> Towards the end of the 17th century, pirates arrived in the Indian Ocean from the Caribbean. Arthur picked Seychelles up on the way.
> 
> \- Finland suffered a severe famine in 1696–1697, during which about one-third of the Finnish population died. Tino has been rescued as child (born in 1693) and is now 18!
> 
> \- Finland was considered one of the four Swedish lands until 1809, but Swedish was not the major language in the country like in the other three lands..
> 
> \- in the 18th century, wars between Sweden and Russia led to the occupation of Finland twice by Russian forces, once in 1714 and 1742. There is no war between Russia and Finland yet, but it will be in three years (the year now was 1711, June, next chapter will be July)
> 
> So far the list of characters on ships is as following:  
> England, America, Australia, Seychelles and Hong Kong - The Emerald Dragon  
> France - La liberté  
> Prussia, Germany, North Italy - Die Ehrsucht  
> Sweden, Finland, Norway, Denmark and Iceland (cabin boy) - Midsommarafton  
> Spain, South Italy - Scarlet Fiesta
> 
> heh, I do love being corny with the ship's names.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed two chapters but I merged them in the end. So it's a long read with a lot happening in it!

The remainder of the trip to Loanda had been pretty uneventful. Some crewmates had remembered Alfred grumbling about his eighteenth birthday, and once the fourth of July passed by, he was merrily dragged to the lower decks for a drink. It was a nice affair and got his mind off of current affairs, such as how badly he stilled missed his family, and how he thought his captain was an absolutely stick in the mud.

Things between them had been incredibly tense after their last conversation and even though Alfred thought it was a ridiculous matter to be angry about, he couldn't blame his captain either. He wished he could just apologize, but he wondered if that would settle things.

He groaned; he sounded like a guilty, lovesick adolescent girl. He had to stop that behaviour immediately, because Arthur wouldn't most likely gut him for it. He sighed and sat back against the mast tiredly. Alfred shook his head when he realized he had been sulking over his captain again, and chugged his drink down instead.

Next to him, Reggie started bellowing out some kind of pirate song he wasn’t familiar with yet, and the others joyfully joined, Alfred grinning along. At the end, Reggie gave him a harsh slap on the back which made Alfred spill the remainder of his rum.

"Happy b'day buddie." Some other crewmembers voiced their agreement. Rum and other bottles were readily exchanged and he joyfully joined in on the songs he was actually familiar with or learned in his time here. "Too bad we ain't on land! We shuld've gotten him laid!" The group dispersed into laughter and agreements and Alfred blushed brightly, resting his arms on his knees.

"Oh shut up! He obviously ain't been deflowered yet!"

"Oi! Shut the hell up!" Alfred shouted, embarrassed as the group laughed again at the mention of Alfred's supposed virginity.

"Yer the only virgin here, Alfie!" Alfred snapped at him to mind his own business before the image of his captain popped up and he groaned. That occurred way too much lately. Of course his captain wasn't a virgin, he was a  _pirate captain._ They didn't only rob people from money and maps. He had fooled around plenty with a girl he had met when he was sixteen, but they had never gone all the way, considering it wouldn’t be good to copulate – _that’s what his dad called it, ugh_ – before marriage or the trouble that could be the result. 

"I'll compensate that by gettin’ myself wasted." Alfred wisely responded and the group cheered as he chugged down half of the newly acquired rum bottle. He felt horribly nauseous and felt the urge to spit it back out of his mouth, but swallowed it and acted like he enjoyed it. With all this sulking of his lately, he wouldn't mind getting smashed.

"Keep it civil!" James warned them from the upper deck, and the group snickered as they confirmed the request, but Alfred wondered how pirates could even be considered civil. He shrugged and downed a few more gulps, before they made it some sort of game. Every time one of them would talk in pirate slang instead of correct English, they had to take a gulp.

Needless to say, most of the crew was drunk in an hour. Alfred and a few others had either been here for too short a while, or have been around the captain enough to save their skins quite some times.

The moment his captain left his cabins and rounded the stairs to the upper deck, probably to fetch James, Alfred sobered up with a foul taste in his mouth. At their loud jokes at the English language, Arthur glared at them before dismissingly shaking his head and disappearing out of sight.

Really, all they did was having fun, and he's just so stuck up. After another hour, most of them were too drunk out of their mind, and a few had gone to sleep somewhere already. It wasn't even that late after midnight, Alfred noted with amusement.

Deciding his captain had probably already returned to his cabins, Alfred stumbled up to the deck to offer James some drinks and to wander around the wheel a bit. He was way too drunk to climb the mast for a nice view, so the view at the wheel would have to do.

The moment he had mastered the stairs, he deflated lightly though, because Arthur was still at the wheel, apparently having some kind of discussion with James. Arthur spared him a glance before dismissing James, and waving Alfred over. He swallowed his nervousness and shuffled over, feeling strangely like a dog that was about to be berated.

“Eighteen years, and still acting like a child.” Arthur said, unimpressed with how drunk the other man was. Alfred shrugged. He could drink, there wasn’t a rule or a code or a penalty for it. Just because the captain was an asshole, didn’t mean the rest couldn’t have fun. “If you can walk into a straight line over to me, you may man the wheel.” He said, a challenge ready. Alfred grinned lightly. He could definitely do that.

Focusing on his feet and the lines that the wooden planks underneath him offered, he slowly crossed the distance. He never said it was supposed to be quick or elegantly, as long as it was straight. Misjudging the distance, he nearly stumbled into the smaller man, who was suddenly a lot closer than he thought. Arthur scoffed at him, but didn’t show any signs of irritation, so Alfred instead draped himself over the steering wheel with a happy sigh. He took care not to steer them out of course. He was drunk but not stupid.

Realizing he still had a nearly full bottle of rum in his hands, he thrust it towards the captain. “Drink. It’s me birthday.”

The smaller man snorted and accepted the bottle, taking one chug out of it. Alfred was momentarily mesmerized by his Adam’s apple, bobbing up and down with the motion of swallowing, but looked back at the wheel before the other was done. “I hate rum.” Arthur eventually said, and Alfred choked out a laugh. He didn’t like the taste either, but the burn was nice.

“I find that it gets better one bottle down the line.” He murmured, and Arthur chuckled, agreeing. “I’m sorry for earlier.” He threw out, before thinking about it. Alfred mentally slapped himself, he was more and more sounding like a lovesick puppy and his captain probably knew it. He respected the man, sure, but he didn’t have to be so damn obvious about it.

Arthur only tensed again, not saying anything, and Alfred instead looked at the dark sky and ocean in front of them. It was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything, so being the awkward douchebag that he was, Alfred decided to just continue opening his own mouth. “So I bet ye can’t drink that bottle in one go!”

“It’s not a full bottle, Jones. That’s hardly a challenge.”

“What, you chickening out?”

 _That_ brought some of the familiar, challenging fierceness back into the expression of his captain, and Alfred grinned victoriously. Arthur put the bottle back to his lips and chugged the rest, his eyes locked on Alfred the entire time. Alfred in turn got more uncomfortable, watching a stray drop of the rum missing the entrance to Arthur’s mouth and instead travelling down his chin. His mind was telling him he should be weirded out, but his arm was already reaching out, hand wiping it away.

He tried to snatch his hand back as if he touched fire, but Arthur had grabbed his arm in a painfully tight grip, fiercely glaring at him. Or well, he has had worse glares directed at him, but it wasn’t a neutral look. They stared at each other for a while, Alfred clearing his throat in the hopes of ending the situation. “Should I get some more?”

Arthur shook his head, releasing the other slowly, and instead stared ahead to the sea again. After a few minutes, Alfred noticed something. If he was honest, he thought he saw some kind of daze over the other’s eyes, and suddenly a really strange idea hit him.

“Wait, you can’t hold your liquor?”

“That’s preposterous.” There was a slight slur, and Alfred bit his lip not to start giggling or something stupid. Oh man, was this actually happening? Now he definitely needed to get some more booze. He was about to let go of the steering wheel to do so, when Arthur fixed him with another glare. “Don’t you dare move.”

“What? I just wanted to get some more booze.” He defended, stepping away from the wheel anyway. Arthur took a step forward but apparently misjudged the distance, and collided with the larger man, and Alfred wheezed out a giggle. “Oh my god, you, _you_ , I don’t, you can’t hold your liquor-“

There was a rather painful stomp on his shoulder and he winced, trying to keep his laughter in by the way his captain looked – even though he looked absolutely murderous, there was a glaze over his otherwise fierce eyes, and were the tips of his ears red? _Oh my god they were!_

“I can hild my loquor better than any of you barnacles.” He said lowly, and it probably had to be menacing, but Alfred was no longer in his right mind. This was _hilarious_. He looked around, but most of the men had gone to their hammocks, except a few men up in the mast and on the other side of the ship who held guard. Arthur noticed his gaze, and his glare turned leeringly, making Alfred freeze on his spot.

“We should get you to your cabin, sir.” He decided on saying eventually. He called over to one of the crewmen on deck to get James back, so he could man the wheel, and steadied his captain when he swayed on his feet a little. Appearing, James looked at the captain with amusement, shifting over to understanding once he saw the bottle. Perhaps it was common knowledge that the captain couldn’t hold his booze.

Alfred had a stupid grin on his face. “I should get him to his cabin.” He tried to say as seriously as possible, and James nodded, taking the wheel from them. Alfred tried to usher Arthur to the stairs, but he was being as stubborn as he could, and eventually he all but had to drag the captain off. Which, two months ago, he would have never seen himself doing. If the captain were sober, Alfred was sure he would’ve lost a hand. But now the man almost seemed putty in his hands, albeit pushing weakly at him and calling him obscenities.

Kicking the door to the quarters open gently, Alfred all but unceremoniously shoved the other inside, who in turn stumbled until he got hold on one of the chairs. “I will have you scrub the latrine for weeks you miscreant-“ He started off in another impeccably British accented rant, and Alfred didn’t even know what half the words meant.

“Are you gonna sleep on that chair?” He asked, when Arthur lowered himself on it, and Arthur growled.

“It’s _going to_.” But he stood up again and wobbled over to the door on the other side of the desk.

"You need me to carry you to yer bed, cap'n?"

" _Don't even think about it._ I am not  _that_  intoxicated. Go to your hammock already before I shoot you." Arthur replied icily, and Alfred, slightly chilled by the glare and tone of voice, let out a nervous laugh and hid his face for a moment as he rubbed at it with his hands.

"So why are ye standing there, cap'n?" Alfred noticed Arthur hadn't moved from his spot next to the door and was looking at the ground with difficulty.

"You are _not_ permitted to ask questions here, you ill-born armpit of Beel… beel… beelze… maggot!" Alfred now burst out into laughter at his captain failed attempt at a curse.

“Right, right.” Alfred made to scramble out of the captain’s quarters, when Arthur’s voice stopped him again.

“Why not make better use of that witty mouth?”

Oh.

_Oh._

Alfred turned beet red, turning around so fast his head spun. Was Arthur insinuating that… _what._ Arthur was leaning against the door, eyeing him appreciatively, and without knowing it Alfred took a few steps forward. He almost felt drugged by the way the other man was looking at him. Sure, he had been thinking an absurd amount of time of his captain and his possible sexuality and his relationships with other captains, but now that he it looked like he was being propositioned, he found than the air between them existed of much more than just challenges and dislike. Well, he didn’t _dislike_ the man as much as he should, for what with keeping him here against his will and-

“Where on earth are you?”

Realizing he was getting way too far into his head and thoughts, Alfred shook his head wildly and blinked to focus on the other man. Arthur had opened the door and had walked into his room already, Alfred’s eyes on him helplessly. It didn’t help that the actual bed and the actual mattress looked a lot more inviting than his own hammock. Perks of being the captain, he supposed.

“Are you going to bed, Jones?” Arthur smirked wider from where he stood, sitting on the bed and opening his legs wide. He looked downright obscene, his red coat shrugged off earlier. Alfred swallowed and felt as if his tongue was way too big for his mouth.

"Wh… I, wha…"

It probably took him too long, and in a sudden moment of clarity, Arthur sighed and straightened up, walking over to the door. “Go to your hammock, then.” He shut the door without saying anything else, and Alfred stared at it, mouth agape at the sudden change of mood. But _what_ had his captain suggested? Even if he was drunk, he must've been sure Alfred was a male, and did he  _suggest…_ that _he_ would…so he _was…_

Surprisingly, he wasn't absolutely disgusted by his captain's words. The thought he wasn't, disgusted him though, and he scowled, shaking his head and slapping himself in the face once. This was all just the alcohol. He was just wasted. Satisfied with the answer, Alfred exited the quarters and fled to the hammocks. The moment his head hit the pillows, he was out like a light.

After what felt like only one hour, Alfred woke with a start as he took a roll in his sleep and tumbled to the floor. Disoriented, he realized some hammocks were still occupied. It had to be morning then, as most people were waking up or getting ready. He groaned at how his head throbbed all of a sudden, and gave himself a moment to orientate himself before sitting up.

He sighed and rubbed his head. Man, he had one of the worst hangovers ever. Probably the worst, now he thought about it. He never drank much in his earlier life. He remembered it clearly though, and his cheeks burned again. The captain just had too much to drink, he told himself. And Alfred was by no means ignorant about the fact that he was a good looking man, so if Arthur really preferred men, then, well… he was flattered. He’ll settle on that.

He tried waking up the best he could, having dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Stepping out onto the deck, and squinting his eyes at the sudden appearance of light and the pain it brought, Alfred vowed to not drink so much again. But then again, being with the crew, he probably was going to drink again. And a lot. He thinks you can build endurance for it though, for he saw crewmembers who were drunk out of their minds earlier working about like nothing happened. One look at the upper deck told him his captain was one of them as well.

He stood regally, overlooking the deck, as if nothing had happened at al. Locking his eyes with Alfred, the bastard only smirked, raising his eyebrows as to why Alfred was not busy working. Alfred tsked and skipped breakfast, because if his stomach had any say about it he would throw it up just as quickly, and slowly climbed up the mast to work. 

In the late afternoon, they reached Loanda, and Alfred walked out of the galley after lunch to go and take a look at the place. Ralph joined him on the railings.

“How’s your head, birthday boy?”

"Terrible." He answered solemnly, and the other smirked.

"I didn't expect otherwise. You consumed an unhealthy amount of alcohol back there for a rookie."

Deciding against arguing that he wasn’t a rookie, Alfred hung his head a little as they neared the docks. Would he be allowed to go into town this time as well? He hoped so, he was itching to get off the ship.

Once at the docks, Alfred noticed that Loanda was a pretty lively harbour. There were lots of ships docked here, as it was one of the few last stops before ships would take on a bigger journey, to South America or to New England. At the same time, there were lots of people in the village as well.

Many merchants trying to sell their goods to the people and pirates passing by. Most pirates didn't feel the need to hide themselves, but Alfred had seen a few marine's walking by as well. After he'd gone and asked why they didn't put on another flag, he was explained though the navy tried to get authority here, there were too many pirates for them to take on. Thus resulting in pirates not giving a shit about whether or not they were recognized.

According to them, the next real marine base was a little less than a month’s travel away from here. They would only stay about a week in Loanda, so even if someone alerted the marine base they would be long gone already. Still, Alfred was slightly curious. He knew his captain and some people of this ship must have a bounty on their head. He wondered how high they were. They must be higher than usual, he'd heard people saying that Arthur was quite notorious, alongside the other captains he had already seen.

He noticed the Frenchman's ship, probably to his captain's displeasure. There was no sign of the Scarlet Fiesta thankfully. There had been several other English pirate ships, and a few with flags he didn't recognize.

Also, Loanda had a lot more to offer than the other docks they've been at. Slightly embarrassed, Alfred averted his eyes from the second prostitute to have noticed him looking around and who was waving him over. It was a pity, the girl was a pretty brunette and she probably wasn't even as old as Mattie.

He sighed and smiled fondly when he thought of his family, before he turned around and shuffled around looking for something to do. As soon as Alfred entered the weaponry, he noticed the little group huddled around the few bottles of rum and he was quickly pulled to their midst.

"Ya've a sweetheart at home, Alfie?" Alfred ignored the annoying nickname and shook his head. He briefly thought of the girl he was supposed to marry, Hannah, but she wasn't his sweetheart. For some ridiculous reason, a blonde head with enormous eyebrows popped in, and he blushed, willing the image away by thinking of nastier stuff.

"Ya're blushin', me friend!"

"Y'see… It's a subject of a delicate nature." Alfred settled on saying, hoping he would be done with it.

"She left ya, mate?"

"No way!" Alfred shouted out before stopping and smiling sheepishly. The leaving part was mutual with him and Hannah, but whatever. "Why the interest?"

"Oh, time flies when yer havin' Rum. It seems only yesterday I had to deal with bloody mermaids, and now that we're dockin' at here and soon headin' to the Caribbean. We'll be dealin' with lots of them! My wee heart is needin' some more rum to heal from that ol' time."

Really. Mermaids. Alfred looked at them seriously before bursting out into laughter and they laughed along, before seriously asking what the hell was wrong. "Mermaids?" Alfred asked and they confirmed. "That's a folklore guys."

"A folklore? Tell ya what, Alfie, in these here seas there are lots of creatures! The kraken, mermaids, faeries-"

"And they are all  _stories._ " Alfred sighed, and the other men laughed at him, making remarks about his oblivion. "You ain't scaring me with stories." He told them, trying to keep in a pouty face and the other men snorted, one of them slapping him on his back.

After drinking a glass with them and getting ridiculed because he didn't believe it, Alfred stumbled out of the weaponry, glaring behind him every once and then. He saw his captain standing motionlessly at the steering wheel and nodded, walking over to him and smiling brightly.

Arthur ignored him completely and looked ahead of himself almost dreamily, though he still looked threatening. Alfred figured he was dreaming about things though, he knows the look and he was starting to know his captain a little.

"Cap'n?" Alfred said cheerfully, getting attention. "Whatd'- What do you think about mermaids?" He asked, quickly catching himself on the wrong grammar. He knew Arthur hated it and tried to hold onto respectable English as well, if only for the sake of him maintaining the idea that he was actually going to run someday.

"What of them?"

"Why's everyone so riled up about them? They don't exist."

"Mermaids? Of course they exist. You might see them in the Caribbean. They're not common in these parts." Arthur scoffed and Alfred face palmed. The same the old ragbags downstairs told him.

"They exist. Like the kraken and faeries? Really, captain, maybe ye should lay down the-" At the glance in his captain's eyes he wisely shut up and Arthur sighed, before motioning for him to step aside so he could walk down the stairs.

Quickly, Alfred walked after him and smiled politely when Arthur kept an eye on him as they made their way to the railings on the deck.

"In England, mermaids are unlucky omens. They foretell disaster and provoke it. They tell ships they will never see land again, while others believe they are a sign of rough weather. Some even say they saw a monstrous big mermaid." Arthur started educationally, and Alfred rolled his eyes. Fish-women didn't exist, it was just another silly scary bed time story.

"I once heard a story of a man who would've drowned if one of his servants didn't pull him back from the river." He offered nonetheless.

"That story probably holds more truth than others. Mermaids are known for deceiving the hearts of sorry idiots. They drag them down the sea once they are completely under their spell."

"And what about the stories where mermaids teach humans cures and other stuff?"

"It is said that happens as well." Arthur admitted. Alfred frowned; Arthur genuinely seemed to believe the whole mermaid deal. "In China, a mermaid's tears are very valuable. They produce pearls from their tears and weave a translucent material." He said softly, looking away. "But mermaids are dangerous in China as well. Their singing puts a spell on a sailor and drags them into a mindless state."

"Sailors only?" Alfred inquired curiously. Even if he didn't believe it, Arthur did seem to know a lot and it was always interesting to learn something. Arthur smirked lightly and shrugged, something that made him appear a lot younger than he probably was and Alfred felt his heart clench lightly.

_Ridiculous, Alfred, stop it._

"Mermaids are supposed to be deft, beautiful and versatile. Sailors or pirates seem to be after these three characteristics half of their time. For them it is easier to deceive a sailor than a married man or woman, but that too happens."

Alfred nodded and bit his lip to not suddenly chuckle at the silliness of it all. "But then, why are we sailing their way? Isn't it dangerous?"

"Only for the weak hearts." He replied, looking ahead of him at the bustling town. Alfred nodded and wondered if anyone on the ship had a weak heart, but he decided that lots of them must be easy to delude. Certainly if the object that does the deceiving has boobs. "Do you have a weak heart, Alfred?" Arthur suddenly asked, gazing at Alfred intensely.

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know. I guess not."

"You guess not." Arthur repeated, nodding and looking ahead of himself again. He sighed and crossed his arms. "You better work on that. I don't personally care about anyone's welfare on this ship, but I would prefer to actually keep the crew I have right now."

Alfred raised his eyebrows at the first insult thrown, though he knew it was a weak insult judging by the last few words. "Well, if you care not, then I can just let myself go with the fish women, huh?" Alfred said back playfully, though Arthur wasn't amused.

Arthur scowled. "As I said, Jones, I don't care." With that he turned around sharply and walked over the plank towards the vast ground, not sparing him another look. Alfred frowned, unhappy at how it ended.

"Have it your way." Alfred muttered, turning to Leon as he addressed the crew.  "We're not here to party, men. Well, some of you are, but get everything in order first. Let’s just start the day by stocking the supplies, eh?"

Some of the crew continued the jobs they'd been given earlier and Alfred slumped over the rails again, wondering what he should do for the rest of the day.

"You're getting lazy."

Alfred rose his head and met eyes with Ralph, and he frowned. "Not in the mood, spongy."

"I'm not here to start a fight." Ralph said calmly, smiling. "We are all a little anxious, we won't be stopping to dock after this week for a long time."

Aha, anxious, right. Alfred knew that if something happened while they were on an open sea like that, they would most likely have to hurry or just accept they were going to sink. "I don't think we should worry a lot." He replied. If Arthur even planned to sail the Pirate Round one day, he had to have good skills in planning and foreseeing. He  _is_ a formidable pirate after all.

"True. But people worry nonetheless. It's in their nature."

"And not in yours?"

Ralph shrugged. "We die, we die. We don't, then we don't." Easy said, hardly done. Alfred smiled a little and nodded, knowing he shouldn't worry. He did though, but not about his life or something. The threat of death from his first fight earlier on had punched sense into him – he wanted to see his siblings. At least before he would die or something. And he had  _so much_ he still wanted to do. He couldn't simply waste his life in the seas.

"Yeah whatever. Wanna go for a drink?" Alfred proposed, and Ralph shrugged, agreeing. While they weren't on best terms, they decided being something like drinking or 'sparring' partners couldn't hurt, so they now regularly drank together or wrestled around when they were not in the mood for the usual shit surrounding them. Realizing it was friendly, the captain had decided to allow it after a while.

Later in the evening, when Alfred and Ralph returned to the ship, the crew was oddly silent and Alfred soon discovered why. Arthur was standing in front of someone who was on his knees, and he squinted his eyes to see who it was. He had absolutely no idea but he soon saw it was a kid, perhaps on his way to be a teenager, and he hurried forward quickly. James was talking to Arthur, but Arthur would have none of it.

"Some bratty child thinks he can come onto my ship and  _steal?_ Who do you think we are, Frenchmen?"

Alfred snorted at the comment but came closer, seeing his captain held a gun to the kids head. "Hey, captain, put that away!" Alfred jumped in front of the kid quickly. Arthur frowned, glaring daggers at him and aiming the gun to his head instead.

"Get out of my way, Jones."

"Hell no. I won't let you kill a child! What did he _do_?"

"He tried to steal." Arthur said, dead seriously and Alfred scoffed.

"So? It's a child, he probably won't have half a mind of what he was doing." He said, defending the poor being behind him and Arthur clicked his gun off the protection mode.

"Jones, I'm not warning you again."

Alfred glared back as hard as he could, seeing James smile at him a little from where he stood behind the captain. "You'll have to get through me first, sir."

There was a long, pregnant silence, and Alfred blinked. The moment he did, Arthur hit him on the head with the butt of the pistol harshly, and Alfred whirled to the side, caught by surprise. He quickly scrambled up to protect the kid, but Arthur had already grabbed him by his shirt.

"If I  _ever_ see you again, I’ll throw you to Davy Jones’ locker." Arthur sneered at the young boy. The kid gulped, and nodded, and as soon as Arthur dropped him to the ground he sped back on the docks and out of sight like a little mouse. Arthur glared after him, before looking at the crew. "What are you lot looking at? Get your asses back to work."

The crew got back to work the moment the words left his mouth. Alfred rubbed his head tenderly, leaning on the rails. Thank god, he'd been able to convince his captain. He realized, as soon as Arthur laid eyes on him, that the trouble wasn't over yet, though.

Arthur walked over to him, his gun still in his hand. "Jones, you've put me in an incredible foul mood, and you embarrassed me in front of the crew. Give me one reason not to shoot you in the head." He threatened, twirling the gun in his hand and Alfred looked away, hoping he'd get a submissive look across.

"I don't have a good reason, but killing kids for such a minor act isn’t fair."

"Neither are pirates." Arthur rebutted, cocking his head to the side. "We don’t have a policy of women and children first, Jones. We're most concerned about ourselves. And I'm most concerned about my ship. If you dare bother me like this again, I _will_ kill you." Arthur finished, turning around to walk away.

Alfred let out a breathless chuckle. "You've said that  _so_ many times."

At his remark, Arthur had moved so fast that Alfred didn't even have time to react. "I hope you can swim." Arthur whispered in his ear, and he kicked himself at finding that it sounded rather sultry, before pushing him. Alfred's eyes widened as he realized that beneath him was only sea, and he quickly held his nose as he collided with the water.

He coughed as he surfaced, the salt water stinging his eyes. He looked upwards and noticed Arthur leaning on his elbows on the railings, smirking. "Hurry up Jones. The entrance towards land," he nodded his head over to the docks for the small boats "closes soon."

Alfred glared, shaking his head, before quickly swimming over to the docks on the right. He pulled himself up on it, ignoring the amused looks of the people working there, and shook his hair. He took a deep breath and calmly walked back towards the Emerald Dragon, boarding the ship again. Some crewmates snickered at him and he ignored them completely, walking over to the captain. He considered pushing the captain too, but he wouldn't get away with that alive.

Arthur chuckled as he saw the drenched appearance of the rigger. "Well, well, Jones, it seems you do know how to swim. You are to sleep outside in those clothes tonight. Don't think I won't know if you go inside."

Alfred bit his cheek. He would most likely get sick or something and that was dangerous if he was sailing on a ship for a long period. Either way, he sucked it up and nodded. "Of course, sir."

"How docile you are all of a sudden." Arthur said sweetly. "Did the water cool your head?"

"The water is wonderful, I recommend it." Alfred replied dully. Arthur disappeared into his quarters after that and Alfred, not knowing what to do, decided to help out with the crew until work would be dropped, mentally preparing for a very cold night.  


* * *

 

  
The following night was spent sneezing and Alfred felt miserable. His clothes had dried up the best he could, but the salt left him itchy. Before the night had started, he had already felt cold, and even though his clothes were dry, the feeling of being soaked was still on his skin. So this was why his mother always edged him on to change when he got wet by the rain or by a surprise swim.

Finding that sleep might as well have been avoiding him entirely that night, Alfred sat up against the mast. He considered climbing on top of it to hold watch, and enjoy the view, but the cold would be even worse there. Rubbing his hands up his arms to warm himself up, he straightened as he heard the door to the captain’s quarters open. The one person he really wanted to punch at the moment came out, smirking as he caught sight of him.

“You obey orders like a lapdog, how nice.”

Alfred scowled, that bastard. Comparing him to a dog, well fine, but that meant that his bite could be as worse as his bark. “No beauty sleep, Captain?” His only answer was a knowing smirk, and Arthur turned around to get off the ship. “Where are you going?” Alfred demanded. It was the middle of the night after all. He got no response, only a short, dismissive wave of the hand, and Alfred sulked back against the mast.

An hour later, during the shift change, James approached him with a wide grin on his face. “Oh man, why are you actually out here?”

“Because I was ordered to?”

“If he had wanted to kill you, he would have shot you. Just get inside already.” Alfred looked at him, unbelievingly. Was he fucking kidding him? Why didn’t the captain say anything if he was right? “Yeah, we all went through this kinda night. I’ll give you some of my spare shirts, come on.”

“Thanks man, I owe you.” Alfred eventually said, hoisting himself up and making his way back to the hammocks with the first mate. James shrugged and shook his head, muttering about how he couldn’t believe that Alfred had actually been risking hypothermia. “So where’s the captain at?”

“Probably some rendezvous with Bonnefoy. I wouldn’t worry about it.” The French captain?  Alfred wrinkled his nose. Didn’t those two dislike each other? Or well, it only seemed as if Arthur disliked the other one. And wasn’t it a bit late to have a meeting of sorts? Perhaps it couldn’t wait until morning. “Do you want to switch shifts? You look like you haven’t slept all night.”

Alfred paused. Now that he was offered a new warm shirt, he might as well try. He didn’t feel sleepy at all, but he could at least try and warm up a bit. Sighing and knowing he would regret it in the morning, he shook his head. Shifting shifts often ended up in people doing the shit jobs nobody wanted to do as well, and he could handle it.  “I’m good. Thanks.”

James nodded, and as he settled into his hammock Alfred left to the upper decks again, telling one of the others to scram so he could take their place. He positioned himself on some barrels nearby the steering wheel, overlooking the seas behind the ship for a moment. It all looked very calm; if he ignored the sounds of nightlife coming from the docks and the town behind it. The waves were gently lapping at the sides of the ship, soft sounds calming his mind a bit.

Despite the knowledge that he had to keep watch and would be in trouble if something happened on his shift, Alfred found himself dozing in and out of consciousness, now that he was a bit more warm and more at ease. It had to be around 4 o’clock when there was a lot of noise down the lower deck waking him up again, and he stumbled to the railings to see what was up. He noticed the one holding guard on top of the mast, but he was unconcerned with the noise and Alfred scowled.

He heard some stumbling and some murmurs, until he focussed on a rather bizarre sight below him. Just arriving on the deck, Francis Bonnefoy was draped all over his own captain, Arthur, the two seemingly pushing and pulling at each other while making their way across.

“ _Mon beau, tu es incroyable, Laisse moi te prendre-“_

“Wanker, talk English or don’t talk at all.”

Adjusting to the slightly available light in the area, Alfred focused in on the situation and froze, his mind short-circuiting. Francis’ face was latched onto his captain’s neck, and although Arthur was complaining about the language, he was making tiny heated noises, his hands buried in the others hair and arching against him. Wait, were the Frenchman’s hands in his _pants_? Yep, they definitely were heading there. Francis released the others neck, grinning widely and kissing the other man lewdly.

“ _J'ai envie de toi.”_

Without missing a beat, and in a surprisingly good accent for someone who stuck to English so much, Arthur drawled; “ _Tu me rends fou.”_ The look that followed on the Frenchman’s face  and how he twisted so that he could get his hands into the other man’s trousers, got Alfred embarrassed enough that he actually yelped. He fucking _yelped_ , as if he were a child.

 Not moving away from each other, the two captains below him each looked up in slight surprise, Francis’ his expression turning more and more lewd by the second. Arthur’s eyes were slightly dazed – he must have been drinking before, then – if not slightly annoyed at the sudden interruption. His cheeks were flushed red and his lips looked abused, his hair dishevelled, and for a moment Alfred was caught by just how _good_ the smaller man looked. It didn’t take long for his minds to play tricks on him and imagine him sitting on the bed again, just like on the night of his birthday, legs spread wide and cheeks flushed.

Alfred thinks he has hit rock-bottom, now. There is no way that the scenery in his head or the amount of blood rushing south and into his cheeks is by any standard normal. His mother would cry, his father would disown him. Arthur was nowhere near looking like a _girl_ after all, and here Alfred was, imagining himself in the Frenchman’s place, his own hands down-

“ _Quelle surprise!”_ The Frenchman whistled loudly. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself. Would you care to join?”

Alfred choked.

“Leave the boy, frog.” Arthur chastised, though he in turn also gave Alfred a long look. He pulled Francis back to him, and the other man wasted no time, sparing Alfred no more thought. He couldn’t look away though. Even though he was probably dazed by alcohol, Arthur looked at him clearly and his green eyes _burned._ “Get lost, _Jones_.” The last word was stretched out into a moan as he was pushed against the door of the captain’s quarters, Francis obviously doing something right.

Well, that sealed the deal for Alfred. As if touched by fire, he released the railings and shot back to where he originally sat.

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit-_

Trying to calm himself down, Alfred clenched his eyes tight and thought of anything unattractive that he could imagine. His parents, his _grandparents,_ dead bodies, but nothing, not even the cold, was helping him take his mind of what he just witnessed. The _image._

Alfred groaned and spared the sudden tent in his trousers a look. Of course that had to happen as well, as if he were some young teen discovering puberty. Glaring around himself, no one was in the neighbourhood. He spend a few more minutes trying to will it down, even considering just jumping into the ocean to cool off, but the entrance to the docks was closed and he was really not looking forward to having to drift until they opened.

He wondered what Arthur was doing down there.

Thoughts going down the gutter, Alfred leant back and groaned. _Shit_ , he could imagine what he was doing down there. He could imagine Arthur being the dominant one too, even though he was smaller. He was already palming the bulge in his trousers before he knew it, eyes closed to images of the smaller man. He probably wouldn’t just take charge; he could imagine the fire in the other’s eyes, a glare in place. His bruised lips would probably be set in a thin line as he would order the other around.

 _Oh shit_ Alfred never knew he could have this side, before. Perhaps all the piracy and sodomy he’s encountered so far rubbed off on him. Briefly he thought of Hannah, the girl with the soft shape doing absolutely nothing for him. Or perhaps he was always capable of this. Fuck, he didn’t care, he had better things to worry about now.

Thinking about how his captain would probably hurt him for seeing what he was doing only made matters much worse. Alfred had pushed his trousers down slightly to grab at his erection, and it was over so fast that he was pretty embarrassed at himself, even though no one could see him. The hammocks weren’t exactly private, and even though that never seemed to stop some people, Alfred hadn’t done anything like this since well before he abandoned home.

Regaining his breath and angrily staring at the sky, Alfred wiped his hand on his trousers. It would just be another stain on his already dirty clothing, and he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care right now. It’s not as if it was very noticeable anyway. He was surrounded by complete silence except for the sounds from the town, and grumbled as he tucked himself back in and stood up, heading for the hammocks.

He kicked someone nearby the entrance out for the shift change, not even knowing for sure if he had the right guy, but as soon as the other sat up he headed for his own hammock anyway, dropping down onto it and crossing his arms before his eyes, trying to ignore the hot flare of anger and arousal he was feeling by seeing his captain disappear into the quarters with the French guy.

Alfred managed to at least doze off for another few hours before the crew was up and about and making too much noise for him to ignore again. Disgusted by the dried up spot on his trousers, he had over to the latrine first to dump water on it, not caring that it would be weird that his trousers was wet. He’d rather suffer the embarrassment of having peed in his pants over the ridicule of having jacked off to his captain, any day.

As it were, he wasn’t met with laughs or confusion, but more with understanding and knowing smirks. He wondered if more people had grumbled their way to the latrine after a night, to emerge with a wet pants. It didn’t seem all that unlikely.

He met up with the other riggers in the galley, snatching some bread for breakfast and washing it down with ale. He missed having the regular water from the well he could drink at home, or the milk from the cows from the neighbour, but it’ll do. Once on the lower decks again, he eyed the captain’s quarters uncertainly. He wondered if they were both still in there.

Someone, James, slapped him on his back. “Don’t worry about last night, man. Cap’n was only having a laugh.”

“Yeah, no, that wasn’t what I- never mind.” He wisely shut up lest he ask him about the French captain. That would be rather suspicious, and James went on with his business.  He was thankful he did, because that was also the moment the man on his thoughts decided to leave his quarters to join his crew.

The moment they locked eyes, Alfred swore that time went a bit more slow or something cliché like that, and he couldn’t divert his eyes from the burning emerald ones that seemed to stare a hole in his. The intensity of Arthur’s gaze was joined by a rather nasty knowing smirk, and if Alfred wasn’t so anxious and enthralled, he would have scoffed. Maybe he would have even flipped him off. No, on second thought, he wasn’t about to do that and risk scrubbing the latrines.

“Did you sleep well, Jones?”

Alfred gulped; he hoped he was mistaken about how sultry he thought it sounded. Instead, he nodded weakly, his eyes still fixed on the others. Arthur’s smirk transformed into a more amused grin.

“You should get some new clothes.”  Alfred cursed mentally when Arthur nodded at his drying – but still mostly wet – pants, looking as if he was a cat that just got the cream. He probably knew exactly what was going on.

He swallowed, hoping that he wasn’t going to squeak or have a high pitched voice. “I, eh, hardly have the means for new clothes.” He managed to choke out, pretty damn proud that he didn’t sound all that weak after all. All the money that the captain would think of sparing to Alfred, would already be rerouted to his family, on his own request.

“With what you’re wearing, you might as well run around starkers.” His captain said, and was he _kidding_? Alfred’s eyes dropped to the other man’s mouth. He _was not_ licking his lips deliberately, or Alfred would pass out from embarrassment. “I’ll take you into town to get some new clothes.”

“Are you serious?” Arthur scowled and Alfred wisely shut up, nodding. Arthur was already heading off the ship by then, looking back at him expectantly. “What, now?”

“Of course now, you chav, hurry up.”

Hurrying to get his ass in gear, Alfred quickly followed the smaller man on the docks, only now taking the sights around him in. Arthur seemed to know exactly where to go, and Alfred figures he had been here before.

They passed quite some shady looking places, until they eventually stopped in front of a small, quaint looking tailor. It was almost strange how something like this would fit in with the taverns and – those had to be brothels – and other shady parts, but it didn’t stand out at all.

“I expect you to work for this favour,” Arthur said casually, and Alfred bit his tongue. He already worked, so yes, _duh_. “Go in there and ask for some shirts. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Alfred frowned. He didn't know why he had expected the captain to come with him, but he had, and he covered up his disappointment by a bright smile and nodded, bidding his captain goodbye and going in the shop.

Inside there were two people, one of them browsing casually and a girl sitting at a counter knitting something. At his entrance, she looked up and smiled sweetly.

"Hello! Can I help you?"

A little put off with the fact his tailor was probably going to be a petite girl like that, Alfred cleared his throat and looked at the other man in the shop. He was still looking around. "Oh don’t mind him. He’s just passing time.”

That wasn't strange or anything. Alfred wondered why his captain appointed him to this shop in particular. "Right. I need some shirts." He looked at himself. "And… I guess new trousers too." Why the hell not, the captain paid for him anyway, it seems.

The girl smiled and nodded. "That's right, you look absolutely horrible." Alfred raised his eyebrows. "But don't worry, I can help you with that. Where are you going?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sailing too? You're Kirkland's right? I never did quite catch where he was going, because, my brother never really lets me talk to any of you pirates, but now that you're my customer, I suppose it can't hurt."

Alfred gaped. "Whoa, wait, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Lily Zwingli. Pardon for my rudeness. I know captain Kirkland through captain Beilschmidt! His brother used to be friends with my brother and captain Kirkland was friends with captain Beilschmidt so I know them – well I don't really know them-"

"Lily."

Alfred started at the spoken word from the other man in the shop, and Lily shut up immediately, blushing brightly. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I start rambling when I'm not really comfortable – not that you make me uncomfortable. I just-"

"It's okay." Alfred quickly assured. He decided to just handle this differently so he would be done earlier, and leant down on the counter, smiling at the girl with as much charm as he could muster. "So could you be a dear and help me?"

The blonde girl looked at him and blushed, nodding. "Sure, I'll get my stuff. Just a minute!" She darted off quickly and Alfred snickered, exchanging a glance with the smaller guy still standing on the other side of the room.

Lily soon returned with a tape-measure, scissors, and other accessories. "Right, please come with me." She ushered him into a room and directed him to stand on a stool. "I'll begin with measurements for your trousers, then I'll start with the measurements for your shirts. After that you can go or wait here while I'm having them tailored. It takes quite a while though so waiting would be… long." Lily finished, smiling apologetically again.

"Really, you can talk for the both of us if you want." Alfred said with a wink. She smiled sweetly and yanked his breeches down. He was never more thankful of the fact that he had tucked his shirttails in his trousers, which was now covering his family jewels, and he turned beet red. The girl giggled.

“I’m a tailor, you have nothing to be ashamed off. I won’t pay attention to _it_.” Alfred grumbled underneath his breath, and she giggled some more, before setting to work. After measuring up his legs and writing it down, Lily offered him another smile. "Thank you for putting up with me. My brother doesn't let me out much and I don't get much customers because I…" she trailed off and scoffed. "Because I'm a girl."

Alfred cocked his head and her and she shrugged. "Lots of women tailor, yes, but somehow they think it's horrible I'm a tailor. Or perhaps my brother has something to do with it."

"Your brother sounds like a wonderful guy." Alfred eventually joked and Lily giggled.

"He's really kind, but he's very protective."

The next few minutes were spent in silence and Alfred started getting cramps, but Lily didn't allow him to move. She had to take quite some measurements and when she was done, he was interrogated in which colour, or kind he wanted it, and once he exclaimed he had no idea he was once again assured she'll take care of it.

He had been forced to take off his shirt, thankfully allowed to put his breeches back on, and sourly looked ahead of himself as Lily started on the measurements on his chest and arms. Sparing himself a glance, he noticed a scar on his bicep. He never would’ve thought that the earlier sword wound would actually scar, but there it was.

"Now where did you say you were going ?"

"I think we'll be heading to the Caribbean first, then to New England. And I don't really know a lot more."

"And where are you from? You don't have any particular accent."

"I'm from England. But neither do you, where are you from?"

"Oh, my family is from Liechtenstein. But before I or my parents were born, we moved to Switzerland to avoid the plague. And now I live here! Well, actually, my brother and I lived in France for a while. But there wet met captain Beilschmidt and we befriended him, and he took us here.” She rambled happily.

They heard a door open and close and Lily sighed, standing up straight, ready to deal with the new customer. Said customer walked in the room they were in by himself though, and Alfred gave his captain a surprised look. Had an hour already passed? That went pretty quick.

"You're looking as lovely as ever, Lily."

"It's nice seeing you, captain Kirkland." Lily said politely, smiling at him and continuing measuring Alfred again. "Alfred, I can either make the shirts right now where you're standing and use you as the doll, or I can make them-"

"Make them separately." Arthur interrupted and Lily flushed embarrassingly, nodding.

"Of course, sir." She finished quickly and handed Alfred his shirt back. He slipped it on quickly, somewhat uncomfortable with both his captain and the petite girl in the room while he was half naked.

"Thanks a lot, Lily." Alfred said sweetly and Lily smiled shyly.

"Oh it's nothing. Come back tomorrow and I’ll have something ready for you." He nodded and looked at Arthur, who was looking at the silent man with the same fierce but serious look as usual. Leaving the dressing room, they bumped into the other man who had been waiting. His lithe frame was leaning against the counter, some fabric on the desk waiting for purchase.

“Arthur! Are you enlightening us with your presence, later today?” His voice was very melodic, and Alfred had to double-take to reassure himself that the voice could match the man. Nothing really surprised him anymore since his life as an unofficial pirate, though.

His captain came to a halt, giving the other a very bored look. “It’s bad enough that you and Beilschmidt actually follow me around, Eli.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, limey.” Eli said cheerfully, no malice behind his words. “And bring your friend! God knows you need more of them.”

Arthur sighed, as if talking to a child. “Eli, pirates aren’t supposed to _have_ friends. I don’t know why I put up with the lot of you anyways.”

“Hey, it’s usually _you_ who turns the evenings into chaos.” He accused, but still with a smile. Alfred wondered if they were talking about Arthur’s intolerance of alcohol, and he bit his lip to hold in a chuckle. “You and Francis, anyway.” His face did a complete turn and now he had to refrain from scowling. Arthur, fortunately, was turned away from him, so he didn’t see. Eli, however, spotted him and looked at him curiously. “What was your name again?”

“None of your business.” Arthur said, at the same moment Alfred introduced himself. Eli snickered and turned back to the desk when Lily appeared at it.

“Well, anyway, see you tonight!”

Outside of the shop, Arthur spared it another glare before making looking over at the other man. Alfred risked a smile. “You sure do know a lot of people, cap’n.”

"Of course I do." Arthur replied, somewhat annoyed. "It wouldn't be any good for a captain to not know many people."

"Well, it's still great." Alfred stuck to it stubbornly and Arthur smirked at him, shaking his head. “Though if you travel to every corner of the place, I doubt it’s avoidable to get to know a lot of faces.”

“Don’t get too excited, Jones. Lots of those faces will want to kill you.”

“You’re such a dramatic sometimes.”

He laughed when it earned him a harsh shove, not hard enough to push him to the ground, but enough to make him stumble back a little. Arthur smiled at him, and his stomach did flips, and Alfred mentally cursed himself.

He was definitely going to walk the plank and feed the fish if this got out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and English isn't my first language
> 
> Soooo there is Lily (Liechenstein) and mentions of Switzerland, and Eli.. we all know who Eli is. 
> 
> So yeah I actually did research about whether or not pirates actually wore underwear. Turns out, most didn’t, because it was too expensive or something. But, the breeches worn by pirates were also often from wool, so to protect their lovely junks from the itchies, they would tuck it with their shirt tails. It all sounds ridiculous, but this is supposed to be believable, so yeah. And then I found another source that said they did, but it was usually more a fishing net because of all the holes and stains, and they refused to replace it. So I’ll just give the common crew no underwear for the hell of it. I’d like to fancy that Arthur does, because he’s a respectable English pirate and stuff. 
> 
> Tu es incroyable – you are amazing  
> Laisse moi te prendre – let me take you  
> J'ai envie de toi - I want you  
> Tu me rends fou – you drive me crazy  
> Quelle surprise! – What a surprise!
> 
> Starkers: naked
> 
> Feed the fish: meaning that an individual will die


	9. Chapter 9

Despite what Eli had said earlier, Alfred didn’t come along that evening. He wasn’t sure if he wanted too, anyway. He still felt very strange and had to sort out some thoughts before even thinking about sitting eye to eye with his captain again.

When Arthur surprisingly accompanied him to the tailor again the day after, Alfred had more or less resigned himself to his unfortunate fate of being weirdly attracted to the smaller man. He felt much like a kicked puppy as he walked after Arthur, head hung slightly and not making conversation as he usually did. If Arthur noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

His brooding was interrupted in the tailor’s shop, when he couldn’t help but greet the innocent girl again with a charming smile. Arthur scoffed at him, but nonetheless got it handled, and Alfred left the shop with a new bag with some new shirts and a pair of trousers. He wondered how long they were going to last; and more so he wondered if the captain gifted every crewmember shirts. He wasn’t going to dwell on it, though.

“Fancy a drink?”

Alfred had to blink a few times before realizing his captain had directed the words at him, and with every moment that he waited to reply he was starting to look more irritated. He swallowed and nodded enthusiastically. A drink with the captain, that was going to be fun, probably. Or really awkward. At his nod, Arthur had already turned around and was leading them through a few rowdy street.

He was quite exceptional at ignoring the people around him. Some people turned around quickly to gossip, and though Alfred understood little of the language, there was English here and there, and he was again reassured that Arthur was quite notorious. Other women _– prostitutes_ – beckoned them, and while he blushed and averted his eyes, Arthur wasn’t even fazed. He had to chuckle at some of the men glaring at them though.

Opening the door to a shady-looking tavern – well, didn’t they all look shady? – Alfred followed Arthur up the stairs to a more secluded area, where he was met with a rather funny looking sight.

Right in front of him was a man with white hair, lazily sprawled over a bench, playing with a tiny bird who was jumping up and down on his chest. On the other side of the table sat a stern looking brunette, his face hidden in a book. At another table nearby sat a grim-looking blonde, looking quite weary as he was engaged in some foreign language with a very jumpy and bubbly brunette in front of him. To top it off, another brunette, one he was more familiar with, almost collided with him.

"Well, shiver me timbers!" Eli slapped Arthur on his shoulder – Alfred feared the worst – and Arthur shrugged it off, sparing a little glare at the other man. “Didn’t think you’d show up anymore after last night.”

“Remind me to gut Francis the next time I see him.” Arthur replied lowly, sounding a little bit amused and annoyed. Alfred frowned, not quite understanding.

“And Alfred as well!” Eli said, turning to him now. “I’m not quite sure whether you should be happy or not, being here. We’re not exactly the best people.”

“We were in the neighbourhood Eli, don’t bother.” Arthur interrupted for him. Alfred felt a bit out of place, seeing as Arthur kicked at the legs of the albino, before sitting down, and not even introducing him to the rest. Eli fortunately took care of that, looping his arm through his own.

“Alfred! Let me introduce you to the wonderful crew of captain Beilschmidt. A very merry bunch.” With that, the blonde glared at them. “That wonderful sunshine over there is Ludwig. He hates talking to anyone but the brunette in front of him, Feliciano. The joke is that they don’t speak each other’s language very well.” Another glare, and Eli laughed.

“The bird-obsessed loony over there is my captain, Gilbert. And the scholar there is Roderich. Guys, this is Kirkland’s new rigger.” There was hardly any reaction, but Eli wasn’t fazed at all. Alfred wondered how he was even able to call her own captain a loony, and it seemed as if this was all quite normal.

Arthur had waved over someone for drinks and Eli dragged him to the bench opposite of Arthur’s, sitting down next to the brunette and pulling Alfred down with him, slinging the bag he was carrying with him to some corner.

Gilbert grumbled before looking at Alfred with dark brown eyes, that gave kind of a red hue in this light. Alfred had heard about albino’s, but never seen one, and he quickly averted his eyes to avoid staring. The bird jumped from his shoulder to the table, pecking away at some crumbs.

Before Alfred could help himself, his eyes landed on the small jumpy brunette a table next to them, and he wondered out loud. “Is that the Italian’s brother?”

The angry-looking blonde whipped his head around pretty quick, fixing him with a deadly glare, and the brunette looked over at him happily. Eli elbowed him in the side and laughed at the blonde.

“Lovino? Him you met?” He spoke in very broken English. Alfred nodded hesitantly, the blonde slowly averting his glare from him. “ _Grazie mille_!” He turned back to the blonde and happily babbled in what Alfred knew must be Italian, the blonde looking at the other man wearily. Alfred came to the conclusion that he probably didn’t understand a word.

Arthur grinned. “Poor bastard doesn’t even understand you guys, does he?”

Next to him, Gilbert bellowed a laugh. “You don’t know the half of it. I would’ve thrown him into the sea already, priest or not, if it weren’t for Ludwig.” He raised his mug to the blonde man, who was again glaring their way. “Everything for you, _bruder_!”

The brunette at their table, Roderich, huffed. “He has been improving, already. Perhaps in a month or so he might speak German more fluently.”

“If Ludwig would just take him to his chambers already then at least he might have a clue of why he is here. Maybe some good old fear will dose some of that annoyingly happy spark.”

“Gilbert!” Eli chastised. “We’re not all savages, you _scheisskopf._ ”

_“Küss mein Arsch, Dumpfbacke.”_

Drinks were delivered to their table, and Arthur shoved one mug of ale his way. Smiling thankfully, he took it and took a large gulp, needing it to steel his nerves. It all seemed very friendly – not really civil – but familiar to sit here, and he wondered that if he would’ve met these people a few months ago, if they would’ve just killed him in cold blood if he were to annoy them. But the notion that pirates were just people like him as well reassured him a bit, especially since he now knew that they hadn’t abducted and abused the Italian like he had initially thought.

“Feliciano came aboard on his free will,” Eli said, apparently reading his thoughts. “Something to do with his brother being taken by a Spanish pirate ship. Antonio was never really subtle.” He turned to Alfred. “Though you managed to let the two brothers meet at La Coruña, didn’t you?”

“Eh, yeah.” He said, pulling a face at the memory. Gilbert laughed.

“Oh man! That was wonderful. You should’ve seen Antonio’s face when he found out where his _Huhn_ was.”

“You’re hardly any better, Gilbert.” Arthur interrupted, grinning slyly. “I remember you raiding a tiny village just because you misplaced your bird.”

Gilbert glared, slamming his mug on the table. Said bird didn’t even flinch, and Gilbert picked him up protectively. “Hey! Gilbird is one of my more loyal crewmen, I’ll have you know.”

“ _Gilbird_?” Alfred choked out, trying not to laugh. The sound he did make along with the exclamation sounded horrendous, but Arthur laughed and Alfred was really okay with that.

Eli rolled her eyes. “It landed on his head two years ago during a raid in Greece, and it kinda stuck around. Too bad it can’t deliver messages across the sea.” The bird jumped out of the albino’s hands and onto his shoulder, nestling into his neck affectionately.

“At least I didn’t name him flying mint bunny.” Gilbert said, laughing at Arthur. Alfred did a double take when he saw that Arthur’s face suddenly turned bright red.

“I was _nine.”_ He said defensively, and Gilbert laughed harder.

“So what, you were old enough to steal and murder but the second someone mentions the imaginary friend you were only a child?” Alfred pondered that nine was rather young to commit crimes as murder, but Arthur fixed the entire table with a deadly glare and he was distracted by the rosy flush dusting his captain’s cheeks. “Face it Arthur, you were _adorable_.”

“Say that again and I will gut your bird and force it down your throat, wanker!”

_“Du hast nur Luft im Sack!”_

They bickered some more, and apparently got the other two’s attention, Feliciano looking at them worriedly and Ludwig reassuringly petting him on his shoulder. Alfred studied the two, careful not to get caught. Despite hardly being able to understand, Feliciano looked at Ludwig with admiration, the blonde man slightly embarrassed at the scrutiny of the other. The Italian looked a lot like his brother, now that he was paying closer attention.

He was kicked under the table by what had to be Arthur, and Alfred snapped back to attention, looking over to his captain questioningly. Arthur didn’t look at him though, still engaged in conversation with the other males at the table, so Alfred probably imagined it. Chugging some more of his mug of ale, he tried to relax.

There were a few cheers downstairs and someone new rounded on the stairs. Alfred tensed up considerably as Gilbert bellowed out a greeting. Arthur scowled when Francis made an appearance.

“ _Mes amis!_ I knew I would find you here, all huddled together and drinking away your sins.” He walked over to the bench were Arthur and Gilbert were sitting, pressing himself on it as well. Arthur made a face and elbowed him in the side, which Francis took in stride. He grabbed the Englishman’s mug from the table and swallowed. “Oh, the day I had. _Mon dieu_!”

“I hardly think we want to know, Bonnefoy.” Roderich said in a monotone voice, focussing on his book again. Eli chuckled and leant into the other brunette slightly, reading along. Alfred wasn’t really aware that he was glaring at the Frenchman until Arthur send him a questioning look.

“Have it your way.” Francis’ eyes settled on Alfred next. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? Hm, what was it…”

“Alfred Jones.” He said, trying to sound as strong as he could. Arthur was still looking at him with that fierce gaze, but he locked eyes with the other blonde to appear as intimidating as possible.

“ _Oui, bien sûr!_ You sure have blossomed nicely these few weeks.” Alfred frowned, but at Francis pointed gaze at the rest of his body, he understood. When they first met, a few weeks ago, Alfred hadn’t been on the ship for very long, nor had he been a rigger for very long. He had noticed himself, recently, as he walked through the town and caught his reflection in mirrors, that he muscled up a bit. He wasn’t surprised, climbing up and down the rigs and doing other hard manual labour would do that.

“You’re disgusting.” Arthur notified the Frenchman, finally unlocking his eyes from Alfred’s, to glare at the man next to him.

At that moment, another man ran into the room, a short Asian looking man. Alfred hadn’t seen him before, so he glanced over curiously. In German, he curtly addressed Gilbert and the albino captain sighed.

“ _Du gehst mir voll auf den Sack,_ Kiku. Fine, whatever.” He threw back his mug with ale, swallowing it in one go. Then he stood up and agilely climbed out of the bench, bird perched on his shoulder. “I’ll see you fuckers later.”

Eli and Roderich nodded, Ludwig rolling his eyes. Feliciano looked a little bit scandalized, and Alfred figured that curse words were pretty much the same in every language. As Gilbert left and the tavern boy arrived with new drinks again, Arthur had taken the opportunity to put more distance between him and the Frenchman, and Francis pouted.

“ _Ma bichette,_ why the sudden mood change? You were quite accommodating last night.”

Arthur pursed his lips, elbowing the other away when Francis tried to slide closer again. Eli overlooked it fondly, and Alfred frowned, finishing his second mug of ale in one go. His captain obviously wasn’t accepting of the other man’s advances, so why did everyone act like it was okay?

“Shut your filthy mouth, frog. I’m never drinking with you again.”

“Ah, you say that every time.” He chuckled, reaching over the other to have his hand slapped away again. The more his captain grew irritated, the angrier Alfred got. He felt tense, glaring at the blonde man, and for a moment his eyes met with Arthur’s, his green eyes burning and a small note of a challenge behind it. Francis continued in French, and Arthur apparently wasn’t very happy with what he said, because he shoved him away again.

Perhaps it was because of how quickly he had thrown back two rather large mugs of ale in a short amount of time, or perhaps it was just because Alfred had been out of it for a while now, but something about how the Frenchman acted and how Arthur reacted, got on his nerves big time. Before he really knew it, he found that he had stood up and had dragged the Frenchman out of his bench, and away from Arthur.

Pretty surprised at himself for the sudden rash action, Alfred swallowed the sudden feeling of fear as everyone looked at him warily, Arthur’s eyes burning on his face. Francis frowned at him, his lips tilted into a dangerous smile.

“ _C'est quoi?_ ”

He was fairly certain that he was asked what he was doing, so Alfred responded in kind, feeling less and less brave at the second, especially since no one was saying anything.

“Get off of him.” He nonetheless said, proud that he hadn’t wavered and that it sounded pretty strong. The look Francis gave him – a mix between disbelieve, amusement and anger – wasn’t very reassuring though.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Alfred was momentarily taken off guard when from the corner of his eyes he noticed Arthur smirking lewdly, before noticing the other man’s hand reaching towards his belt. Remembering that he too hadn’t left the ship without the old gun that Reggie gave him, Alfred quickly pulled his too, not sure if he would be up to shooting the other. It didn’t really matter, Francis was quicker then him anyway, and he weakly held the pistol in his hand as he glared down the barrel of the Frenchman.

Behind him, Eli sighed. “Literally _every_ time we go drinking with the lot of you, there’s a fight.” He chuckled and slid out from the bench, grabbing the barrel of Francis’ gun and lowering it. “Leave the poor boy alone, he was right to take you down a notch.”

Arthur scoffed and also slid out from the bench, roughly elbowing the Frenchman who in turned grinned widely and sat back down. By the tone of it, he cursed something to Alfred in French, before nursing his mug of ale again and Eli looked at Alfred searchingly. He noticed behind him that Feliciano and Ludwig were still quiet, and probably still looking at them as well. Looking back to his captain, Alfred felt a bit on edge noticing that the other was also still staring at him.

Well, then.

“Go back to the ship, Jones.” Arthur eventually said.

“But-“

“That wasn’t a request.”

Alfred sagged his shoulders, grabbing the bag with his stuff out of the corner, and left the room and tavern without as much a glance to the rest behind him. He heard Francis snicker a bit, and he felt furious, quickly making his way back to the ship. Once at the docks, he glared at the ship. He was probably going to spend the rest of the evening sulking. The notion of escaping entered his mind, but fled just as quickly.

Besides, he was less and less sure of whether he wanted to escape or not.

He looked to the other ships, his mind wandering to New England and the possibilities there. He had heard stories from home but had never imagined going there before.

As a kid he once dreamt of joining the navy, to be a hero. But once the navy started executing pirates in the town next to his own, where they happened to be on business, he had more or less discarded the idea. Sometimes it washed up in his mind and he could dream of being a sailor, but at home he was kept too busy to daydream.

Witnessing that execution had hardened him a bit, though. He had been six years old and horrified, his father had dragged him away as soon as possible. It was of no use, he had already seen the pirates who fell through the floor and were hung, and the crowd cheering. There had even been someone only slightly older than him. All accused of piracy and treachery.

He had memories of the huge fight that followed between his parents, his mother accusing his father for taking him to such a place. His mother had kept him and his brother in inside for _days_ until the executions ended.

But… pirates weren't any better, he knew. They also killed in cold blood. They were probably the same as the navy.

 _Everyone was always so happy with the navy_.

But Alfred knew, if he were to believe the tales of his crewmembers, that they probably stole and murdered just as much as the pirates. Each of them were just trying to save his own skin.

Again he questioned the truth to all the pirate stories he was told. His own ship and captain was nowhere near as horrible as he thought it was. There were no nasty diseases, no daily murders, no fighting amongst the crew and there was usually some abundance of food. As far as he knew, his crewmembers went out to drink and have a merry time, spending it with prostitutes and not raping innocent people. And even though he couldn’t stand the guy, up until now the Frenchman seemed okay, as well as the Beilschmidt crew. They were weird, but have been tolerable.

And the Spaniard was a huge jerk ass, but he remembered the little Italian looking at him with fondness disguised behind all that anger, and while that may just be some kind of brain-wash effect because he had been kidnapped, it could be something else.

Then there was also the Swedish crew he had met. He couldn’t possibly imagine Tino being a cold-blooded pirate. The boy reminded him more of a mother, if he had to be honest. Besides, pirates don’t pick up young orphan boys from docks to offer them a family somewhere safe.

Aside from the raiding and thus killing people, being a pirate didn’t actually seem all that bad. But again, perhaps that only accounted for the pirates he knew.

Entering the ship, he heard a lot of noise coming from the galley. He frowned, but there were enough people taking watch, so he followed the source of noise. Inside he was met with some of his crew and strangely enough, some of the crew of the Midsommarafton.

He sat down next to Mathias, accepting the bottle of rum passed his way. “I didn’t see your ship docked?” He questioned, and Mathias leaned away from…Lukas, was it? From the other man, to slap him on his shoulder.

“Swabbie! Nah, the Midsommarafton is still on sea. We docked with the smaller ship for supplies. Then we saw the Emerald Dragon and we decided to cause some trouble here.” He only recognized Mathias and Lukas, and figured that Tino would most likely be with their captain.

With the presence of the Scandinavian people, the evening quickly turned out to be a lot better than Alfred had hoped for. They ignored eight o’clock curfew, seeing as both their captains were nowhere in sight, and eventually Tino joined them as well, exasperated at the sight of his crewmembers but nonetheless joining in later.

It was close to midnight when people started leaving the galley again. Mathias and Lukas had been sucking face for at least half an hour before clumsily leaving the galley and Alfred had to resist the urge to laugh at Mathias’ eagerness and Lukas’ monotone face. Tino nursed his drink, looking up when the two left. He was in no hurry to leave himself though, engaged in conversation with Alfred. He had found that he had rather liked the other man, befriending him easily.

Tino had been talking about countries they had visited and people they had met, and Alfred was very interested to hear about all the experiences. Nearing the end of the talk, Alfred sat back slightly, fixing the other with a doubtful look, and Tino laughed, asking what was wrong.

“You people really don’t match the entire ‘blood-thirsty pirates’ image that people are gossiping about.”

The other man shrugged. “You just met the right people, I believe.” He said after a short while of considering the statement. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re not saints.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. But I know, for example, that my captain has quite the reputation. Back at home there were stories of the Emerald Dragon raiding villages and leaving no one alive, or open wars on sea with the Navy. So far it has been-“

“Boring?” Tino provided, and laughed at the other’s incredulous gaze.

“No! No, absolutely not. I mean, I’m just a bit underwhelmed.”

“The funny thing about gossip is that they usually ignore the boring periods, Alfred. They talk on and on about the exciting stuff, but it’s not as if we never have calm periods. And as I said, we are no saints, neither is Kirkland. But we’re not _monsters._ ”

“I wasn’t saying that.” Alfred replied, slightly feeling as if he had been chastised. Tino offered him a friendly smile however.

“I’m not saying you were. But you’ll get your fill of the life you’re expecting, don’t worry.”

“Oh man, now you’re just making me anxious.” Alfred eventually said, laughing a little. Tino shared the laugh and they drank in silence for a while, before he decided to speak up again about something else that bothered him. Up until now Tino seemed a pretty nice guy, and he had the feeling that if he wanted to know things he could better ask him instead of Arthur. “So you and your captain are…”

Tino tensed a little, but there was no hostility this time and he simply nodded. “Women are a bad omen on a ship, Alfred. Going a long time on a ship… you understand.”

“It seems to be a lot more than just a replacement for a woman, though. And it’s not as if there aren’t enough women willing at cities like this.”

At this, Tino sighed, dreamily gazing at nowhere in particular. “ _Kyllä,_ that’s true. But if it’s right, it’s right. Why bother with gender?”

Alfred took the time to consider that, finding that there was really nothing wrong with the other man’s statement. Why bother, as long as people were happy? Or well, as happy as you could be as a pirate. Tino was eyeing him, obviously curious about his train of thought, and Alfred nursed the bottle of rum he hadn’t even halved yet.

They spend some more time in silence, before the doors to the galley opened again and Alfred froze as he saw Arthur entering leisurely. Tino turned around and nodded in acknowledgement, Arthur scoffing.

“Lights should’ve been off hours ago.” He chastised no one in particular, but there weren’t a lot of people in the galley anyway, save for a few drunkards and them. Despite his statement, he sat down next to Tino, offering the other man a nod. “Tino. I understood you are also heading for South-America?”

Tino nodded. “Berwald altered our course once he heard of heavy navy presence in Salvador. He has friends there.”

“Are we heading to Salvador, Captain?” Alfred couldn’t resist asking.

“We’re heading to São Luís. We’ll need to raid some of the villages to restock.” Tino gave Alfred a knowing smirk, obviously referring to their earlier conversations. Arthur studied Alfred for a reaction, but he refused to give on, his face remaining stoic.

Tino finished his drink, standing up. “Well, I should be returning to my ship. _Hyvää yötä_.” Arthur muttered a goodbye in turn and Alfred looked at him incredulously.

“How many languages do you _know_?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I don’t know Finnish. I’ve been around them long enough to know a phrase here or there.” He answered airily. “But if you must know, about six.”

“That’s amazing.”

“About that incident back at the tavern, care to enlighten me?”

Alfred frowned – spending the night with the other crew and drinking merrily had made him forget about the incident, and now that it came back, he was pretty embarrassed if not mortified about it. He wondered how in the world he was able to get out of the tavern alive after his little performance.

“I don’t know what happened.” He settled on saying, eyeing his captain carefully. Arthur looked more amused than angry, thankfully.

“Really? Because to me it seemed like you were _protecting_ me, as if I were some damsel in distress.”

Alfred nervously looked around. Even though he looked amused, he recognized a threat when he heard one. Trying to keep the atmosphere enjoyable, he shrugged. “Well I am a hero, aren’t I?” He counted the seconds until his captain graced him with a response again, and it came in the form of a soft chuckle. In fact, Arthur’s entire features seemed to soften, and Alfred was momentarily caught off guard, amazed.

“Don’t worry, Jones. As Eli said; he deserved to have been taken down a notch. The fact that you managed it before me, just made it much more amusing.”

“Glad I could help.”

Despite his earlier warning that lights should have been turned off, Alfred and Arthur stayed in the galley for quite some time. Feeling way more comfortable now that the initial fear was out of the way, he managed to joke a bit with the usual stoic captain.

After a few gulps of rum, he noticed the tell-tale daze in his captain’s eyes, even though he was nowhere near as drunk as the earlier incident. It did result in him being a bit more free with his stories, and after unimaginable tales of India and it’s wonders, Alfred eventually went to his hammock feeling a lot more light and giddy than he was supposed to.

Arthur had even cracked a genuine smile at him when they were again arguing about the existence of mermaids and other mythical creatures, and Alfred had stopped short in his argument, instead opting to stare unabashedly. If Arthur had noticed, he didn’t mention it.

He dropped himself in his hammock, an impossibly wide smile on his face, and his chest fluttered. Well, perhaps Tino was right.

After a night full of rather heated dreams, and after embarrassingly rubbing himself to completion in the safety of the shadows of his hammock, Alfred was a bit irritated but still in a happier mood than usual. At least this time he didn’t have to wipe his hands on his breeches, and therefore didn’t have to douse them with water, saving himself the jesting of the others.

He spend most of the next few days just helping the crew to restock. It involved a lot of heavy lifting and moving, and Alfred was positive his muscles were going to snap with exhaustion soon. He wasn’t about to let anyone else in on that, so he dutifully continued until he could finally catch a break again, a day before departure.

Right now, he wasn’t worrying about departure. He was at a nearby tavern cheerfully chatting up with Eli about their next destination and his own. Apparently they were heading around South-America to Peru via Argentina, and then stopping for a while longer at Panama. Eli wasn’t sure about where Gilbert wanted to go from there, but they didn’t mind to have an exact plan.

Eli was telling him about how he ended up in piracy – something to do with the Ottomans, and Alfred had heard of these people but he had never really known anything about it. He was about to go deeper into that subject as it certainly piqued his interest, when their uneventful day turned out to be a little more exciting.

The door to their more secluded room upstairs – which they already shared with Ludwig and Feliciano, the two trying again at their language barrier and paying the other two no mind – swung open and in came Roderich. Before he fully noticed all the occupants of the room however, he had already spoken what he had in mind.

“Elizabeta, dear, I seem to have misplaced my-“ It was cut short as he laid eyes on Alfred, who in turn looked pretty confused. There was no woman in the room, so Roderich probably just randomly shut up because he noticed that.

Judging by the sudden tense environment of the room and the way that Roderich _and_ Ludwig were glaring at him – if looks could kill – and Feliciano cocked his head, looking at Eli with concern. Alfred felt his blood run cold before looking to Eli as well. He looked absolutely terrified.

Suddenly his first suspicion whether or not the voice matched the man came back to him, and he was pretty sure his own face contorted in horror as well, and he looked, _really looked_ , at Eli. Sure, he was feminine, but so was Tino, right? Now that he really looked; Eli was a lot softer around the edges than Tino. And he always wore a bandana around his hair, only some of it showing in front. His clothes were unusually wide too.

There was a long, stretched-out tense silence, and Alfred wondered if his captain knew. And if he was going to die here, because apparently this was supposed to be a secret, but he thought that was kind of unfair, since he didn’t screw it up.

“ _Scheisse.”_ Eli eventually whispered under his breath. “Roderich and his big mouth.” He offered a tiny smile and Alfred, reluctant to move a muscle, offered a tiny smile back. “Alfred, this is supposed to be a secret.”

“Eli, _Halt den Mund!_ ”

“Roderich, honestly, Jones is the purest fucking pirate I’ve ever laid eyes upon.” Eli said, clearly irritated at the brunette across from the room. Roderich scowled and approached them, Alfred’s eyes glued onto Eli as he raised his hands to remove the bandana. A bunch of brown hair dropped down the moment he did, engulfing his face and shoulders – and yeah, he was definitely a she.

Alfred gaped, aware that he was catching flies but man, he had never even thought of the possibility. He was snapped out of his reverie when Roderich slammed his fists on the table, demanding all attention to him.

“Listen here, _Welpe_. If you breath _one_ word of this to anyone, I’ll scoop your eyes out with a spoon and have you eat them.”

That was certainly an image that would get the message across. Alfred snapped his jaws shut with an audible click, nodding. “Yes, sir!” He couldn’t help but say. The man radiated authority and respect and somehow he was nothing like the calm, book-loving man from before.

Eli, no _Elizabeta?_ Elizabeta or Eli or whatever Alfred was supposed to call him _– her_ – sighed and put her hand on the brunette’s arm.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry. Alfred won’t tell, right?”

Alfred cleared his throat, trying to find his voice and courage back, and nodded. “No! I mean, of course I won’t. Why would I? It’s not my business, why would it be my business? I just never expected that, I mean, _man,_ you really had me there!” He was fairly certain he was rambling, and eventually Elizabeta’s hands left Roderich’s arm, who took a few steps back. She patted his own hands, and he realized that he had been holding his mug in a claw like grip before.

“Alfred.”

“I’m sorry.” He eventually said, taking a deep breath. “I won’t. Who… who else knows?”

“A few members of my crew, Gilbert, Ludwig. Feliciano too, he walked in on me, and it was all pretty hilarious. Kirkland too.”

Ludwig snorted, listening on the conversation. “I’m pretty sure Francis can sniff out anything with a vagina, too.” Eli glared at him and he shut up, wisely turning back to Feliciano who was looking around him with a wide-eyed, confused look. Poor Italian.

“Arthur does?” It was actually the first time he referred to his captain as Arthur out loud, and it felt strange but pleasant on his tongue. Ludwig had turned back to Feliciano as if nothing had happened, and Roderich observed them still.

“Yeah. We were all docked in India and after a drunken night, Kirkland was convinced that Gilbert had stolen his pocket-watch, which he probably did come to think of it. Anyway, he stumbled into our room at the inn all angry and demanding where it was… and well, it wasn’t pretty.”

Roderich ran a hand through his hair, chuckling a little, the tension visibly leaving his body. “ _Mein Gott,_ the look on his face. Priceless. It gave me a fair chance to beat him up.”

 _This_ he had to hear. Alfred whirled back to Roderich, eyes wide. “Wait, what? You beat him up?”

Eli snickered. “He likes to boast, but it was just one punch. Kirkland was too shocked to really do anything, so after Roderich threatened him much like he did you, he retreated back into his own room and didn’t come out until I dragged him out for dinner.”

He laughed, nervousness subsiding, at the image of that.

From there, Roderich repeated the question with which he came, resulting in him and Eli having a small discussion, and Alfred felt that he had overstayed his welcome. Anxious to get away and think on this anyway, he stood up and cleared his throat, nodding. Roderich repeated is threat and Alfred smiled sheepishly, before leaving with haste.

It was late already, and the sun was gradually setting. He slowed down and walked around the village a little, knowing that because they would leave in the morning, they would set off to a new destination. He had never dreamt of visiting so many places, and he hadn’t really taken the time to admire any of the places he had been to as of now. Of course, Loanda wasn’t anything spectacular, not if he believed the wild tales Arthur and Eli had told him before.

His resolution to bail the moment they got to New England got weaker and weaker. If he stayed, perhaps he too could visit all those wonderful places. The chance was very likely, especially since his captain wanted to sail the Pirate Round after their last stop in England in a few years.

And even though Tino warned him that circumstances might still worsen, that their situation might still turn into the horrific stories Alfred had been told as a child, he couldn’t see how that would weigh up against all the beautiful things he could experience. He could choose to just not partake in the raiding and murdering, unless absolutely necessary.

And the more he thought of it, it wasn’t just pirates who were considered bad people. Eli and Tino had confided in them that the Navy was just as terrible, that they terrorized colonists in North-America and that the East India Company was fighting for colonial monopoly, not sparing innocents if they were in their way.

He sighed, happily daydreaming. Imagine if he actually got to visit all those places. Arthur had described wonderful deserted temples in his adventures, had met natives in the wilds of South Asia  and managed to trade with them, despite their language barrier.

He had told him of a raid into a palace in Italy, and Arthur’s eyes had glinted with excitement when he reminisced about emptying the place. Sure, he went a little too far into detail of murdering the guards posted, but something about that look had fascinated Alfred, and he wondered what it would be like to experience the same things.

Alfred rounded a corner, deciding he might as well go back to the harbour and ship, when a door nearby jingled and he saw the person on his mind leaving the shop. Arthur caught sight of him as quick as the other, and Alfred changed his course to walk over to his captain, offering a bright smile.

He noticed it threw the other man slightly off guard, Arthur eyeing him suspiciously but nonetheless waited in front of the building he had just exited. Alfred nodded to himself. He could do this, he could probably decide to stay on the ship, if it’s crew and it’s captain would have him. Settling down already seemed like such a boring idea – _was Arthur pulling his gun?!_

Alfred flinched and froze in his spot as Arthur pulled his gun, aimed, and shot. Noticing he had closed his eyes, but not noticing any pain or immediate death, Alfred carefully opened his eyes again, seeing Arthur quickly walk over to him and grabbing his arm. Only then did Alfred realize Arthur’s gun was not aimed at him, but rather at something behind him, and he whirled around to see what it was.

He noticed the few people walking down the streets quickly disappearing in buildings or alleys, not wanting to get caught up in the crossfire, and as Alfred fully turned around he was met with eight men, in uniforms that reminded him of the navy he had met a few times prior his time on the ship. One of them was on the ground, blood coating the street as a bullet had hit him right between the eyes. The others had already grabbed their swords, and Arthur pulled at his arm.

“Run.”

Arthur shot a few more times, taking another one down, before practically dragging him out of the street, and Alfred was once again surprised that even though he lacked muscle mass, Arthur certainly made up for it with agility and speed, and he struggled to keep up with him.

They didn’t run far until they ran into a more crowded area, and Arthur released his grip on the other man to slither his way between people. Alfred hadn’t failed to notice that the other men were still hot on their trail, and he tried his best to follow the smaller man, but eventually managed to lose him anyway. Cursing his luck and hand already reaching out to his own gun, Alfred pressed himself against the walls of one of the nearby buildings, deciding that blending in would be his best tactic. A few of the men had already passed him, so it might work.

Just as he started to relax and creep along the wall a little more, he heard gunshots, people screaming as they scrambled to leave. The wall behind his back gave out as apparently a door opened and someone pulled him inside roughly. He was met with fierce emerald eyes as Arthur then slammed him into the wall and closed the door, hand on his mouth to prevent him from voicing his surprise.

Arthur put a finger to his own lips, ordering the other to keep silent, eyes fixed on the door next to them. It was silent after a while, people having disappeared, and Alfred released the breath he had been holding as Arthur removed his hand from his mouth.

He fixed the smaller man with a questioning look, and was mesmerized the moment Arthur looked back at him to give him a sarcastic glare. They have never been this close before. Despite the building being an abandoned shop of some sorts, Arthur was pressed against him against the wall, one hand on the door and the other resting on his belt, where his sword was.

Alfred’s eyes zoomed in on something he had never noticed before; two tiny golden rings looped through the smaller man’s right earlobe, and a quick study showed that the other ear had been left alone. Arthur wasn’t wearing his hat – it would’ve prodded into his face with this distance between them – and it gave him the opportunity to really study the others face. The eyebrows weren’t _that_ bad up close, he reasoned.

Arthur’s eyes locked onto his and he froze for a moment. His eyes were _really_ green. The kind of green that reminded him of the first few leaves growing on trees after winters. Alfred struggled to come up with something that could describe the shade of green. They were bright yet dark, intelligence and challenges lying behind its depths and tiny flecks of golden brown dusted them, resembling driftwood in the ocean during a storm, with the fierceness and passion to match.

He followed the eyes down to his cheekbones and nose, all which screamed perfection to him, before resting on his mouth, which was currently formed in a smirk. Realizing the nature of the smirk, Alfred was sure blood rose to his face and dusted his cheek, his eyes rapidly turning back to the other. Arthur looked at him knowingly, leaning a bit closer.

Feeling as if he had to explain himself, and because he was really playing with the idea of mentally composing sonnets about the colour of Arthur’s eyes, he wasn’t really thinking when he choked out the following words. “Your eyes.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up a bit, confusion clouding his face momentarily until he heard a bang against the door. He was very thankful to his body that he didn’t jump, because his heart certainly did, and before he knew it Arthur dragged him away from the wall as the door opened and the men from before entered the building, swords drawn.

Arthur pushed the other man behind him and laughed, tantalizingly saying something in a foreign language, and while some of the men momentarily looked as if they were hesitating, they attacked anyways. The only word he was able to catch were ‘Kirkland’, but it wasn’t as if Arthur was trying to go for a non-recognizable persona in this city, so he wasn’t very surprised.

It was rather fascinating to see the smaller man in action, though. Alfred hadn’t even yet drawn a weapon and Arthur had already pushed his sword through three men, all rendering them either dead or mortally wounded and on the ground. The remaining men circled around him, and on Arthur’s face was a somewhat mad grin, exhilaration clear in his eyes and Alfred’s breath caught, trying not to pay attention to the dying man slightly to his right.

One of the men yelled something when Arthur sliced at another man’s arm, and Alfred drew his gun quickly, aiming it at another man advancing to his captain and pulling the trigger without even thinking. It wasn’t a kill shot, but the man went to his knees as the bullet went straight into his spine, crying out in pain.

Arthur whirled around, eyeing Alfred and grinning wildly, before running his sword through the wounded man’s head, kicking him away and off the sword afterwards. Alfred shakily brought up his gun again, aiming at one of the other two men and shooting. He missed that time, and the man advanced towards him instead of Arthur.

Alfred pulled the trigger again, but it clicked, and Alfred realized that it would be just his luck that he ran out of bullets. Throwing the gun away, he stumbled backwards and fumbled to draw his sword, stepping out of the other man’s range just in time when he wasn’t fast enough. He managed to block the next swing, pushing the other man back. He wasn’t very trained in the art of sword-fighting however, and sorely began to notice that raw strength wasn’t going to cut it. Without the element of distance and surprise that his gun offered, Alfred started to think this wasn’t going the way he wanted.  

Ducking away again, Alfred heard a sickening, mushy sound and looked up to see a dagger imbedded into his opponents eye, and he dropped to the ground with a soft thump. Alfred, still kneeling on the ground, made a face as he stared at the dead body, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

And that was definitely _his_ dagger, what the fuck?

Alfred realized Arthur must have snatched it from him when they had been standing so close, and he had to suppress a hysterical laugh, mentally complimenting Arthur on his slyness.

Standing up, he turned back towards his captain, his heart still beating fast in his chest. He sighed, rolling his shoulder and sheathing his sword again. Arthur was bent over one man, looting his pockets, before kicking him back and straightening up, a pouch in his hand.

If Alfred could describe the smaller man with one word, it would now definitely be dangerous. The green eyes he was mentally still writing songs about were burning and his hair was dishevelled. There was blood on his white blouse, but he was fairly certain that it wasn’t his own. Even in the dark of the abandoned house, his red coat shone brilliantly and his smirk was positively wicked.

Alfred felt his heart skip a beat as Arthur’s gaze turned back onto him.

Unceremoniously, Arthur threw the pouch to Alfred who scrambled to catch it. The sound it made and the amount it weighed implied there were coins in it, and Arthur grinned a bit more sincere when he looked up in confusion.

“Congratulations, you just earned your first pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia
> 
> The Ottoman Wars in Hungary lasted from 1526 till 1699. 
> 
> Scheisskopf – shithead  
> Küss mein Arsch, Dumpfbacke. – Kiss my ass, idiot (fun fact; Dumpfbacke is usually directed to females)  
> Du hast nur Luft im Sack! – You’re full of shit  
> Du gehst mir voll auf den Sack – you’re really busting my balls
> 
> Ma bichette – my little doe 
> 
> Kyllä – yes  
> Hyvää yötä – Goodnight


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot is happening in this chapter, lol.

With the pouch of money that he had been gotten from the captain, Alfred had purchased some parchment and ink. He was currently seated in the post office, trying to ignore the impatient glares of the man behind the counter.

Running a hand through his hair, he balled up a piece of parchment and threw it behind him. Well, he was going to clean that up later. He growled at himself. He had only one piece of parchment left and he was determined to do this.

_Dear Matthew,_

_I’m alive, and I’m fine. I’m sorry._

Alfred stared at the piece of parchment in his hands, and scowled. Was that the best he got? That he was sorry? Matthew would throw it in the fire without a second glance, he was sure.

_I’m aboard a ship and on my way to South America._

Best not mention it was the Emerald Dragon, or any kind of pirate ship.

_~~I hope to send more money next time.~~ _

He scratched that through. This wasn’t just about money and he shouldn’t lead with that. He tickled his chin with the feather of his borrowed quill, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There were so many things that he wanted to say, and now that he had the opportunity to, he couldn’t think of anything.

_I’ve visited Spain and Angola already, and I wish you could’ve been there with me. I even met Italians and a Frenchman. You’d kick my shins, but I also learned how to curse a little in another language already. It’s a good party trick._

Alfred groaned – he sounded so lame! He had never been exceptional at the art of writing, however, so he had to give himself a little credit for at least trying. He wasn’t even sure that what he was doing was really allowed by his captain either. As long as he didn’t reveal their next location, or didn’t mention the Emerald Dragon, what harm could it be?

_I miss you, Albert and our parents. I hope you aren’t too mad at me, hearing that I am alive. You know I had no other choice. You understand, right? I just wanted you to know that I am safe. I don’t know if I’ll come home someday, or if I’d be welcomed with open arms._

Writing it down made the reality a little bit harsher, and Alfred winced when he bit the inside of his cheek a bit too harsh.

_I’m planning on sending money home, I don’t know if you guys need it or not but it’ll make me feel better._

_Please don’t be angry at me._

Alfred thought about sending their next location to them, but decided against it. It wasn’t as if Matthew was going to send people after him though. Right? Perhaps he had to clarify that in the letter as well.

_Also, please don’t come look for me. Love, your brother Alfred._

He was nowhere near satisfied, but he could send a new letter from his next location, so this would have to do for now. He had to hurry his ass though, the Emerald Dragon was due to depart in half an hour.

He still wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good idea to send a letter home. His parents would probably be better off, thinking he was dead, because the idea of their eldest abandoning would be much worse in his eyes. Still, the idea didn’t sit right with him. It would be unfair to keep them from knowing about his fate, especially now that he had decided to stay on the crew for… an unknown period of time. Perhaps when they returned back to England, he could even visit them, if they were to dock in the neighbourhood.

That’s partly why he addressed the letter to Matthew instead of his parents. Matthew would look at it more rationally, would be able to comprehend what Alfred was really saying. He had always been the smartest of the lot, anyway. He figured that if Matthew would break the news to his parents, they would be more inclined to listen. Either way, all he really wanted was for his brother to know the truth. He deserved that much. What he did with the information, Alfred didn’t really care.

He left the post office feeling slightly less burdened and also slightly more than before, but shoved the conflicting feeling aside as he returned back to the Emerald Dragon. Passing crewmembers who were lifting crates with all kinds of supplies onto the ship, he quickly climbed up the mast to help the other riggers with letting the sails loose and getting ready for departure.

After finishing the square-rigging structure, Alfred sat down across the mast, back against another pole and both legs swinging on opposite sites. He watches another rigger downstairs untying the ship from the dock, and slowly but surely the ship began to steer away from the dock and back onto open sea. Enjoying the wind caressing his face, Alfred closed his eyes and started to daydream about their next destination.

 _South America_. He had never even dared to think of being so far from home. The others were jittery, because the journey would be a long one, but they weren’t otherwise affected. Not like Alfred was. He was excited, jittery as well, and curious. Reggie had almost smacked him on the head because he had asked so much questions this morning, and Alfred wasn’t sure if he would be able to reign himself in during the journey.

“You like sitting up here, don’t you?” He whirled around, steadying himself before falling down, met with Arthur who was agilely climbing the mast. His captain gave him a somewhat predatory grin, nodding up to the crow’s nest. “The view is better up there.”

Alfred hadn’t even known that Arthur climbed the mast, hadn’t even been sure that he was able too. But, as captain, wasn’t he supposed to fulfil any position in times of need? His mouth dried momentarily as he realized that Arthur had opted out of wearing his coat, and without the large obstruction he was able to see much more of the lean muscles as Arthur climbed up towards the crow’s nest.

Knowing that it was at least _some_ kind of an invitation, or at least not a prohibition, Alfred scrambled up to follow him up, knowing the crow’s nest could host three to four people at best. Heaving himself over the edge, he saw Arthur already leaning over, eyes on the dock that they were moving away from.

“I didn’t know that you could climb the mast.” He eventually opted for saying, when Arthur didn’t start any kind of conversation. Usually Alfred felt that spending time with his captain in silence was more of a waste than a joy, because he knew just how exhilarating the other could be.

Arthur laughed, shaking his head. “Before I was a captain, I worked the ship like any other crewmember, Jones. I started out a rigger, before I was quartermaster. Then first mate, and then eventually Captain, when old man Oliver got himself killed.” Alfred was silent; he had never heard anyone, Arthur or any of the crew, talk about the old captain. He himself had actually stupidly just assumed that the entire crew and ship had appeared out of thin air the moment Arthur announced himself captain.

“Since when have you been on this ship?”

“Since I was fourteen. Before that I worked on Setting Friday with Gilbert and Francis.” He explained, turning to look at Alfred. He smirked at the other’s confused glance. “Setting Friday was shipwrecked in an attack, and we were taken in on the Scarlet Fiesta before finding… new homes.”

“That’s where you met Carriedo, then?” Alfred dared ask, hoping he wouldn’t overstep a boundary or something. He was pretty interested to know more.

The name caused a tiny scowl to appear on Arthur’s face, but he shrugged. “He was also a rigger before jumping straight up to first mate. Being the son of the captain has its advantages, I suppose.”

Mulling over that, Alfred silenced and turned to look at the sea. Out of the corner of his eye he suddenly spotted the Midsommarafton, anchored in the sea. Tino had told him that they would follow the Emerald Dragon onto sea before parting ways near South-America, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see a smaller ship slowly making its way towards the bigger one.

“So why the hatred towards each other?” It earned him a glare, but Arthur rolled his eyes.

“It’s hardly hatred. Think of it more as rivalry. We both felt like we had something to prove. I guess that bastard never got over the fact that I always beat him either, physically and intellectually. It didn’t help that Francis and Gilbert were their usual idiot selves either; more often than not the three teamed up on me.”

“I’m assuming you did a little payback?” Alfred eventually asked, after Arthur silenced.

Arthur gave him a sly smile. “Only Antonio; every now and then he would find himself starkers and tied to the mast after a night of drinking.” Alfred barked out a surprised laugh, relishing in the idea of the Spanish bastard being embarrassed like that. He probably had it coming, and Arthur looked pretty pleased with himself too.

“It was only after I boarded the Emerald Dragon that… all of this began. We both rose to the position of captain quickly, we both had the same goals and locations we wanted to travel. Often we collided during raids or on docks, and even more often we sold each other out to the authorities. Eventually Ottomans were after us both, and Francis sat us down. We decided that working together could be more profitable than working against each other. Now we are both just waiting for the other to break the fragile truce.”

Alfred snorted. “With the way you two act around each other, I had figured that you killed each other’s sister or whatever.” It earned a laugh and Arthur shook his head.

“That would be much simpler.”

Knowing that there was much more to the story, but not wanting to pry into anything off limits, Alfred nodded and decided to switch subjects, hoping the conversation would be able to go on. Before he could ask about the old captain of this ship and what kind of man he was, Arthur interrupted.

“Did you send a letter to your family?” Taken slightly off guard, Alfred nodded, hoping he wasn’t out of line with that. “What did it say?”

“Just that I was safe and that I was travelling on a ship. That I would send money back and that I hoped they didn’t hate me.”

Arthur smirked slightly. “No heroic stories of how you were a mighty pirate, sailing to the corners of the world and meeting beauties and treasures?”

“The fact that you found out, confirms that it wouldn’t have been a smart decision to write down who I was with and where I was going.”

“You are a quick learner. I already had to throw someone off the ship after their family back home tipped the navy because they missed their son so much.”

He doubted Mattie would do that, but Arthur was right, and he couldn’t take the risk. Even though his relationship with his captain had improved a lot since the day he arrived here as a stowaway, he still knew that the rule was ‘every man for itself’. He was under no illusion.

A comfortable silence followed, the waves gently crashing against the ship and sounds of the seagulls back at the docks of Loanda drowning out amidst the chatter downstairs. In the distance he could see the Midsommarafton’s sails being let loose, readying themselves to leave.

“When I was a rigger, I often abandoned duties to relax in the crow’s nest.” Arthur eventually said, low enough that Alfred had to strain his ears a little to hear. “The sea opened up so many possibilities for a boy who grew up secluded and poor.”

If Alfred had to bet on it, he would say Arthur sounded a little vulnerable there, so he wisely kept silent, body still as he eyed the ocean.

“Up here, you can’t tell where the skies end and where the sea begins. The air is devoid of the smell of piss, alcohol or unwashed men, it’s _fresh._ And the mere idea of just submitting yourself to a power so great that it sinks entire Man-o-War’s within the blink of an eye, is exhilarating.” He sounded positively amazed, and Alfred couldn’t help but look over and admire the other man’s expression.

“And then you set sail, and the breeze in your hair cuts into your eyes but that’s hardly any issue, because you feel… you feel as if you are-“

“Flying?” He couldn’t help but interrupt, hoping that he didn’t break the moment, but Arthur looked over at him with the same amazed expression in his eyes, and he felt his throat tighten, wondering if Arthur had always been dangerous or able to kill in cold blood. Surely he had to be like Alfred once, right? He couldn’t imagine otherwise – there had to have been moments where a young Arthur threw up after his first murder, where he had to depend on the older crew of his ship. His mind raced with images of a young, carefree Arthur, laughing as he climbed up the mast, and his heart did funny things.

“Exactly. As if you are flying.” Arthur agreed softly, averting his eyes again. “I don’t understand people willing to settle down, after having tasted _this_.”

“Me neither.”

At that, Arthur turned back to him, a frown in place and the amazed expression gone – Alfred tried not to let that bother him too much. “What about finding your place in New England? Or finding some whore who’ll you marry and breed with, before dumping her when you find out she’s horibbly sick, ending up a lone man?” At Alfred’s frown, he chuckled. “Lots of pirates are easily charmed by a set of breasts.”

"I'm not really interested in women." At Arthur's surprised look, he choked on his words. "I-I mean  _those_ women, whores! I mean the whores! I'm not interested in the whores!" He wondered if he said that a bit too loudly, but he was probably too high up for the crew to hear him if he wasn’t yelling.

The captain just nodded and smirked, not saying a word. Alfred sighed. "I'm not running off. I know that was my intention, but it’s like you said.” He shrugged and waved over to the vast open ocean around them, Loanda further and further away from them. “Sure, land has it’s things. But here you’re free, and on land… you’re stuck.” That was a little weird though, because on the sea you were stuck on the ship. Alfred figured the other would understand anyway.

“I heard you and the crew talking about your silly dreams.” Arthur eventually said, smirking. “Soaring in the sky like some bloody seagull. I figured promoting you to a rigger was the closest you could get.”

Alfred stared at him. That was uncharacteristically kind of him. Instead of questioning it, Alfred gave his brightest smile of the day and nodded enthusiastically. Arthur looked away once more and Alfred took the opportunity to study the other.

Without the red coat or hat, Arthur looked a lot smaller and younger. There was a very light dust of what had to be freckles coating his cheeks, and Alfred wondered if that was just because of the sun or if they had always been there.

Eventually Arthur turned and caught his gaze, and Alfred smiled guiltily, knowing he was caught staring. He opted to lean back on the mast, making himself a bit more comfortable. No one was heading up here to take watch, and Alfred figured that the appointed men probably thought Alfred would take the shift seeing as he was already there. Might as well.

“So, São Luís?”

“Not the most ideal of locations, but we’ll have to restock before we head to the Caribbean.” Arthur said, leaning forward on the rails and tilting his head slightly to Alfred’s direction. “It’s a religious area, full of Catholics. Ideal for raids. It’s been relatively quiet there since Beckman’s revolt, so there won’t be too much authorities.”

“And then straight to the Caribbean?”

“Actually, I have business with Francis in Paramaribo first.” At Alfred’s silence, Arthur turned around more fully to examine him and he smirked. “You don’t seem to be overly fond of the frog.”

Alfred huffed, feeling his cheeks warming up as he remembered the earlier incidents. “Well, it’s not easy to like him, no.”

“I would almost think you are jealous of him, actually.” There was a jab behind Arthur’s words, and his entire look just screamed playful, so Alfred steeled his nerves and shrugged.

“And what if I was?”

There was a very tense silence that followed. Arthur’s gaze intensified immensely and everything in Alfred screamed to look away, but he decided against and kept his eyes locked with the fierce emerald eyes. He felt he was holding his breath, and tried to let it out without appearing too nervous, his shoulders tense.

“I’d say you’re getting in way over your head.” At the playful grin that accompanied the reply, Alfred relaxed a bit, flashing one of his winning smiles. His heart was thudding as Arthur eventually swung back over the railings and climbed back down to the decks, leaving Alfred alone in the crow’s nest.

 

* * *

 

  
They’d been at sea for a few weeks until Alfred noticed that the Midsommarafton had been following them rather closely. Without a telescope, it was easy to spot them, and he smiled. Travelling along with the Scandinavians should be fun, after all. Perhaps they might dock together at some place again, in the future.

From the crow’s nest he could see that no other ship or rock was in sight, so he decided he could catch a break. Noticing his captain at the upper deck made his skin crawl pleasantly and with a grin he climbed down quickly, heading up to where Arthur was.

As usual, Arthur’s face was fixed in a scowl and as usual, it didn’t lessen when Alfred approached him with one of his biggest smiles. That didn’t demotivate him though, and Alfred leant on the railings, following his captain’s eyes to the Midsommarafton, which was close enough that Alfred could actually make out the crewmembers on it.

“They’re too close.” Arthur said eventually, taking out his telescope and peering through it to the other two ships. “We’ll attract attention.”

Alfred looked around them again, seeing nothing but miles and miles of sea around them. Sure, they might attract attention from the navy or other enemy ships, but they would spot them in no time, and the Emerald Dragon was fast enough to outrun them if necessary.

“I’ve checked, there’s nothing but open sea out there.”

Arthur fixed him with a raised eyebrow and a small glare, as if he were insulted that Alfred wasn’t catching on. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted James making light signals to the other ships, presumably so that they would either slow down or sway from their course a little.

“I didn’t mean from other ships.”

The moment the words left Arthur’s mouth, the ship creaked ominously and swayed a little, people shouting in alarm. Alfred tumbled a little, thankful for the railing he could hold on to, Arthur steady enough on his feet. He was wide-eyed though, his face betraying his annoyance and – fear?

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat at the following screams of his crewmembers, the ship swaying again and waves that weren’t there before crashing against the sides of the ship.

“ _KRAKEN_!”

The entire ship seemed to still at that moment, people running around frantically as Arthur finally seemed to get back in gear. He whirled around, his red coat dramatically flying with him, and all but pushed Alfred out of the way in order to get to the steering wheel.

The ship creaked again, swaying unnaturally against the waves. He saw someone nearly falling off of one of the masts above them, clinging to the ropes for dear life. Someone else ran over to the warning bell and pulled at it loudly, the sounds echoing.

“Ready the cannons!” He heard Reggie shout from somewhere, but Alfred found that he was still frozen in spot. “Keep the powder dry!”

He watched as Arthur pulled at the steering wheel. “Batten down the hatches! Hard to port!”

There was another ominous creak and Alfred’s blood ran cold as he stared, wide-eyed, to his left. A _huge_ tentacle was raising itself above the ship, and Arthur cursed loudly. James shoved him aside, grabbing the hand cannon and making quick work of firing at the tentacle. It retracted a little once it hit, slowly dropping back into the sea.

“Jones, do ya have a death wish?” James yelled at him angrily, and Alfred snapped out of it. “Grab the hand cannon!”

“Don’t let the tentacles hit the deck!” Arthur yelled loudly, and Alfred hastened to the other side of the deck to one of the hand cannons.

He was almost intercepted by one of the tentacles sweeping dangerously low over the upper deck, and skidded down to slide down the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it reaching towards the steering wheel, and he growled before unsheathing his sword and embedding it in the nearest piece of tissue, slashing at it. It diverted it’s course, swatting and ripping the sail above them before retracting down the sea.

A powder monkey was already on his way to help him with the cannon balls once Alfred finally arrived at the other side of the ship. He was just in time, as he spotted a tentacle breaking the surface and going upwards the ship. He aimed and fired, closing his eyes at the impact and missed. Cursing loudly, he almost dropped the cannon ball on his feet before reloading and firing again, hitting his target.

“Port side cannon fire!”

There were two tentacles reaching up around deck and Alfred watched in horror as Finn, a rigger he worked with, was snatched from the masts and dragged down into the sea, screaming as he went. The men had already acquired pistols and guns, shooting at the remaining tentacle. It didn’t do a lot of damage, but Alfred saw some of the tissue flying of here and there, and apparently it hurt enough for the beast to retract it’s long arm again.

The ship swayed dangerously to the right, and as Alfred looked down he saw a massive amount of _something_  withtentacles rising into the air. Without really thinking, he yelled. “Hard to starboard! Fire the cannons!”

He was immensely grateful that despite not being the captain, his order was followed without any question and cannons already fired straight into the hump of flesh below. Trying to not think about what the _hell_ was happening, Alfred set his mind to automatic and kept reloading the hand cannon, kept firing it at the mass of tentacles in front of him, trying not to flinch when one of the tentacles slammed into the railing near his side, wood flying around.

One of the mast creaked and he looked up to see that a tentacle had wrapped itself just below the crow’s nest, before being cut off and blasted to bits by James, who had apparently taken the hand cannon near the steering wheel and fired. He heard crashes downstairs, and looked down to see that tentacles had entered the ships through the cannon holes, people screaming.

More men were swept of deck by the long arms, and Alfred started to think that a fight against a creature like this was helpless. It hasn’t even been ten minutes and it appeared as if they had already lost a quarter of their crew. He was snapped out of his horror by very loud cannon fire, and looked up to see the Midsommarafton nearby them, their cannons aimed at the beast and firing.

“Hard to port, then hard to starboard! Shake her off of us!” Arthur yelled as tried to take control of the wheel again, and the other ship fired again, tentacles rapidly retracting from between the two ships. He felt a surge of relief – the other ship was immensely larger, and had at least twice their amount of cannons on each side.

“Someone free the rudder, god damn it!” Alfred heard Arthur shout and he turned around to see that the man was having more and more trouble with the wheel. Not really thinking about it, he ran over, helping the man pull at the wheel. Underneath their combined weights, it shifted and the ship surged, as if free from something.

Arthur leaned against him heavily, and Alfred heard him mutter under his breath. “I will _not_ go down like this. Damn that cursed beast.” Before speaking up again, louder. “Don’t let her switch targets! Ready the cannons!”

Alfred released the wheel now that it seemed easier to control and ran back to the hand cannon he used earlier, powder monkey nowhere in sight and he didn’t waste time mourning his possible death. Loading a cannon ball, he took aim. “Wait!” Arthur shouted, looking over to the Midsommarafton with wild eyes. Alfred squinted and could see the tall, blue-clad figure of their captain standing at the wheel as well.

Tentacles raised up as they intended to attack the other ship, faster this time. “Fire!” There were a few echoes here and there as the order was repeated, and the ship shook as all available cannons fired at the same time.

It continued on like that for a while, the cannons waiting and firing once the tentacles appeared, but Alfred realized that it wouldn’t make any difference. The Midsommarafton drew the beast’s attention with its size and many cannons, and before he knew it, before another ten minutes were over, three enormous tentacles raised up from the ocean, faster than before.

He stilled, somewhat eerily in awe of the mere _size_ of them, and horrified at the alarmed shouts they were hearing from the other ship. With a deafening sound, the tentacles slammed down on the deck, the Midsommarafton loudly creaking and bending. Alfred stilled, and he heard Arthur yell orders behind him, urging his own crew to fire and _fire and fire!_

Another two tentacles raised up and bended themselves around the other ship’s main mast, curling around them as if it were decoration, before snapping them in half as if it were a twig of wood. Looking back to his captain, who silenced and stopped giving orders, Alfred paled. The Englishman looked slightly terrified, James somewhere shouting at him for orders.

He was immensely surprised by what happened next. Arthur averted his eyes and clenched the steering wheel. “Hard to starboard! Get us out of here! Loosen the main sail!” None of the men except for Alfred hesitated to jump into action, men climbing up the mast and other men disappearing below deck. “Fasten the cannons and throw anything we don’t need overboard!”

Alfred marched over to the other man, Arthur muttering about that they at least had a strong wind on their side. “ _What?!_ What are we doing? Are we leaving them here? We can’t-“ He wasn’t aware that he was practically shouting at the other, his throat constricting and head hurting.

The other man whirled on him. “They’re dead.” He said, simply. “Go fasten the head cannons, we need to get out of here.”

“They’re not dead! We should stay and fight, we could take them on board, we _shouldn’t-_ “ He grabbed the steering wheel in desperation, furious that his captain was looking away and not listening.

Arthur snarled and punched him in the face. Alfred had nowhere near expected this and stumbled backwards, tripping over a loose cannonball and hitting his head on the deck. He moaned in pain, trying to sit up quickly and seeing his captain glowering down at him.

“They’re _dead_ Jones, and we will be too if we linger!”

Angry, Alfred stormed off the upper deck down towards the masts. He wanted to go up and climb the main one to help out, trying to get his mind off of things, when he fell back with a surprised yelp and a shooting pain in his shoulder. Looking at the offending area, Alfred saw a piece of wood sticking out of his shoulder.

He hadn’t even noticed that had happened. He briefly remembered the railings being smashed near him and wood flying around, but he had probably been too high on adrenaline. He was debating whether pulling it out was a good idea, when a hand on his arm stopped him.

“I’ll patch ya up, come on.” Ralph said, nodding towards the surgeon’s cabin. Alfred meekly nodded, slightly nauseous now that he noticed the wound and started to feel the pain. “Ye have to make do with me.” Alfred realized that the main surgeon was probably dead. As his apprentice, Ralph would be taking the role upon his shoulders. He probably knew what he was doing, so it was fine with him all the same.

Ralph sat him down on a stool and gave him a piece of wood which he put between his teeth, counting down before he yanked the piece of wood out. Alfred’s entire body heaved along, and he clenched his eyes shut to prevent from yelling, biting the piece of wood. After removing splinters the best he could, the wound was cleaned and Ralph bandaged it up, patting his good shoulder.

“Ye okay?” He asked when Alfred didn’t move, staring at the wall in front of him. Aside from items that had scattered to the ground, this room was no worse for wear, and he could imagine nothing had happened.

“No.” Was all he said, standing up and leaving. He doubted that he could climb the mast already, his shoulder hurting like a bitch, so he decided to go help downstairs and clean things up.

It was a mess, but it was no chaos. Everyone worked silently, occasionally requesting something here and there, but Alfred felt like everyone was already mourning the other crew. And they might not even be dead. Swallowing his fury, knowing that no good would come from it right now, Alfred helped as best as he could.

He sent a few people with nasty looking injuries upstairs to Ralph, bleeding all over the place would be of no use to anyone after all. After organizing everything the best they could, Alfred helped fix any holes in the ship – amateurishly, but it would do – and went back on deck to throw any broken or unneeded stuff overboard.

The crew worked as if on routine, and by night they were far away from where it happened. The sea seemed as calm as ever, as if nothing had happened, and Alfred balled his fists. A ship, they could see coming. A ship, they could prepare for. But now that apparently the Kraken existed? Why the hell did pirates like living on sea if creatures like that could just turn up?

After a few hectic days, he had the time to question the existence of every mythical creature he had heard about – if the Kraken was real, then mermaids were probably real as well. _Shit_. Wondering if he could ask James more questions about the creatures that may very well exist after all, Alfred wandered up the lower deck and saw him, Arthur and Leon standing around a crate with a big map on it. Before he had wondered who their navigator was, until he was told that Arthur navigated himself.

“To go back to Ascension Island might be too big a risk. It may very well be the beast’s resting place. Other than that, if we cannot find supplies to repair the ship, we’re at worse odds than that we are now.” Leon said, pointing to some spots of the maps. James acknowledged Alfred as he came closer, indicating he was allowed to listen along.

Arthur frowned. “How about Fortaleza?

“Ever since it’s under Portuguese control-”

“The control worsened. Not a good idea, what with the state we are in.” Arthur agreed, interrupting Leon. “I know of a small fishing village, a day’s sailing from Fortaleza. Could we make it?”

James looked doubtful. “We _could_ , but we need to ration, even with the man we lost. And we took damage in the supply room. We’ll need to be careful.”

“Then we increase speed, and hope we stay under the radar. I want the fishing nets out. Have Neal take care of the rationing and if anyone tries to steal, you know what to do.” James nodded and left the deck, probably to go and search for the new boatswain, Neal. Alfred took his place and curiously looked at the map. Arthur eyed him before turning back to Leon.

“We sail around Fortuleza, and we don’t let the authorities see us. We could handle a fight, but I’d rather not risk it. In the village it will be safe to dock, but use another flag just in case anyone in the area spots us.” Leon also nodded and left the scene.

Arthur gathered the compass and sextant, rolling the map up gently. He looked weary, as if he hadn’t slept well, and very chagrin. The later was confirmed when angry eyes turned to him, waiting impatiently. Alfred cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass.” He started, keeping his head down a little. While still furious about abandoning the others, he realized that Arthur had to put the ship and the crew first. Seeing the state his captain was in – still impeccable, but rough around the edges – only confirmed that he too had trouble with what had happened. Alfred wondered if they had ever been attacked by the kraken before, and realized he wondered it out loud.

Arthur looked tired, but the anger had ebbed away slightly at his apology. “Once, when I was not yet captain, there was a similar situation. Only we were engaged in a fight with the Dutch Company, and fled the scene once she wrapped herself around their Man-O-War.” He looked at the sea around them, shoulders sagging a little. “Such a majestic creature, but such tragedy she brings.”

“I wouldn’t say she was majestic. More like terrifying.”

At that, his captain offered a tiny smirk, and Alfred felt a spark of warmth blossoming in his chest. Weird, since he had felt nothing but cold and melancholy for the past few days, but not unwelcome.

“A mouse would think of a human as such as well. She attacked because it was in her nature – we disturbed the area she was in. Perhaps she felt threatened, or perhaps she was famished. She is not unlike the sharks that prowl lost pinnace’s at sea.”

“Poetic creature or not – I was horrified.” He said, offering a smile of his own. “And we lost some very good people because of her.” He regretted saying that, as Arthur tensed and his gaze hardened again.

“If it were the other way around, they would have left us.” Arthur said, eyes averting the others gaze in favour of the sea again.

“But we owe them our lives.”

“And you should drink to that, but try not to live in the past. They were foolish to intervene, and arrogant to think that they could take her down.”

Alfred frowned – feeling a bit angry at the words. He almost wanted to shake the other, to demand that he would at least show some remorse or gratitude – but then Arthur sighed and his face looked almost pained for a second or two, and Alfred swallowed his anger back in. He came to the conclusion that Arthur had no idea how to handle the hurt, so instead Alfred offered a nod.

He knew one way to offer comfort though, and Arthur could probably use it. “Well, then. I know for a fact that the rum wasn’t compromised.”

Arthur’s smirk told him that his idea was in fact a very good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, Kraken. I admit I watched a bit of Pirates of the Caribbean while watching this lol. Originally the idea was to have them attacked by the Navy, but this was just so much more evil. Also, sorry if the story kinda jumped from one to another – I wanted to speed it up a little. Only so much can happen while they are at sea.
> 
> Square rigging: The square or rectangular sails that are hang symmetrically across the mast and supported by the horizontal spars. They are quite strong and able to catch a more wind then other sails. They are mostly usable for sailing at the open sea.
> 
> Beckman revolt - Beckman Revolt (1684), a rebellion that resulted in the expulsion of the Jesuits from the captaincy of Maranhão and the removal of its governor. Manoel Beckman, the wealthy planter who led the uprising, and many other rebels were hanged; five others received lesser sentences
> 
> Ascension Island is an isolated volcanic island in the waters of the South Atlantic Ocean. It was discovered on Ascension day, hence the name.
> 
> Fortaleza da Nossa Senhora de Assunção lies in Brazil. It wasn’t renamed Fortaleza until 1726, but I shortened it. Because I think everyone else would’ve, too. The small fishing village they are heading to is actually Paracuru, but I don’t think it had a name / was under that name in 1711.


	11. Chapter 11

After roughly two months stuck on a ship, Alfred had to convince himself that kissing the ground under his feet would be a bad idea.

Sure, he had earlier stated that spending the rest of your life at sea would be ideal. The freedom, the air, the openness, it was all very exhilarating. But now that he had spent two months with nothing but the rocking waves and endless water, _and_ food being rationed on top of that – well, that made a man desperate and irritated.

The crew had been difficult during this period as well. Everyone was on edge during the rationing and when they had finally spotted the land and heard seagulls, every sailor had let out a collective sigh. So yeah, Alfred was very happy to finally be on land. He felt as if he could breathe.

He also fell flat on his face, _again._

Lying face down in the sand, he groaned. The ship couldn’t dock in the harbour, being way too big for the small village. They had to drop anchor a small distance away and approach the village by rowing boat, which was tiring on itself. Apart from that, he felt like he hadn’t eaten properly in years. His skin burned from being in the sun too much all of a sudden – nothing feels quite like scorching sun on your mild British skin – and his muscles ached a little.

After lots of hard work, the ship was almost done with repairs, and all they needed was extra wood, supplies and rum. Because, of course, the rum was now also gone.

Rationing the food left the rum in an abundance, so every crewmember just decided to drink away their hunger and misery, and well, there were quite some rowdy evenings on ship where the captain had to threaten to throw people off. Alfred managed to keep a hysterical laugh in – Ralph and him had gotten into another drunken fistfight.

Well, _fistfight_ wasn’t quite right. Both of them had been punching at masts and mops, convinced they were taking the other down. He had later heard that Arthur hadn’t even tried to intervene that one, opting to just watch the hilarious battle himself.

Ralph laughed loudly, only wobbling slightly on his feet. “You look like a beaten dog, Jones!”

“Oh fuck off, fish head.”

Alfred refused James’ outstretched hand and clumsily got back into his feet, wobbling slightly. Stretching and bringing his legs up and down,  it didn’t take very long to get used to the steady ground again. Still Alfred couldn’t shake the feeling of being uncoordinated, and he wondered if it was really something you were going to get used to.

Arthur and the other men of his crew had already continued on, walking onto the docks and into the small village. The people didn’t seem all that surprised at the newcomers, but they looked cautious nonetheless. Their ship had changed their flags, and Arthur had forgone his flamboyant clothing – looking suspiciously ordinary – but Alfred had no doubt that people knew what they were behind the half-hearted disguise.

He sighed and chanced another look at his captain. He had been amicable on their shared night of drinking, but each day longer at sea had turned him gloomier. He had often disappeared in the captain’s quarters after doing his morning rounds or other routines, and more often than not Alfred witnessed the wonder that is the drunk captain Kirkland.

Which was hilarious, of course – but it didn’t do wonders for the other man’s mood. He snapped at the crew more than he did before, and for once he was obeyed without question more often than not.

In the absence of his captain and their time together, Alfred did manage to get closer to the crew, despite the bad circumstances. Ralph and him had somewhat of a rival understanding, jabbing at each other and keeping each other on edge.

He had a lot of sleepless nights. He dreamed horrible dreams, about the Kraken and Tino’s face, about the laughter that he shared with Mathias, and well, it sucked. It showed in his appearance, as he was told that he looked tired and angry. He tried his best to appear happy nonetheless.

But with all the free time that the sleepless night had brought, he did have time to think about his growing attraction to his captain. He had been thinking more and more about him, inappropriately so. He didn’t even flush in embarrassment at the thoughts anymore – they were too usual an occurrence by now.

If Arthur had noticed Alfred’s sudden change in demeanour towards the other, he hadn’t said anything. Alfred had continued with his usual jovial behaviour, starting conversations and keeping the captain company at the crow’s nest or the wheel. He had long ago admitted to himself that he was very attracted to the smaller man, be it another male or not. He knew it even went to the point of jealousy, considering his incident with the Frenchman.

Being sure of his feelings, he felt he was more secure of himself and less jumpy, and was immensely proud of himself that he appeared tougher, but it didn’t change a thing between them, fortunately.

They had decided to only go to land in a small group at first, to get everything settled. Even though they were far from authority-controlled areas, everyone seemed on edge, and Alfred figured that was also because this place hadn’t been on the planned route.

At the front of the village, Arthur turned to James. “Go to the tavern and see who you can scrounge up. There are always some sorry landlubbers waiting for an adventure.” Arthur divided the rest of their group – some were to join James, others were to find supplies, and others, including himself, were to explore the area. “Jones, with me.”

He jumped at the opportunity to go about exploring with the captain himself, grinning widely as he walked over to the shorter blonde. They set off into the village not much later.

The village itself was charming. It was small, quiet, but familiar and reminded him of home. Granted, the people here had darker skins and they spoke in languages he was unfamiliar with, but it had the same atmosphere.

There were shops here and there, and houses that had to be ordinary homes. In an alley he had seen some children playing with sticks, play-fighting each other, and he thought of Matthew and Albert with a pang in his chest. He wondered whether or not his letter arrived.

They reached the centre of the village, a small square filled with stands and some people milling about. Arthur slowed down, leisurely walking past the stalls. He occasionally stilled to look at something, and Alfred was okay with just following him around. He stopped in his tracks at a particular stand though, eyes glued on the items.

The stand seemed to specialize in gifts – tiny and larger sculptures of ships, animals and other things. They were gorgeous, and many people stopped to take a look, and Alfred’s eyes fell to one ship in particular. It was carved from wood, the details very well made. But he frowned, because it reminded him a lot of the Scandinavian ship that had been swallowed up by the Kraken.

“Jones?” He snapped out of the melancholy he felt when Arthur walked back over to him and tapped his shoulder. Whirling around and faking a big smile he shook his head. Arthur’s eyes glided back towards the stall and items and he scowled, narrowing his eyes at the other. “That’s only junk.”

Of course Arthur would think that. He probably had never received a proper gift. Alfred mulled the idea over and. A few stalls over he found gems in all kinds of sizes and colours, and even Arthur halted for a second, before muttering that they were most likely fake and painted. Which was probably true, since the village was so small and not on any commercial route. Still, Alfred was mesmerized by a green gem, an emerald if not fake, glittering brightly in the hot sun.

It reminded him a lot of the other’s eyes, and his thoughts went back to Arthur never getting gifts. Alfred played with the idea that, were they not in a pirate kind of situation, and were Arthur, you know, a woman, Alfred would have probably bought gifts for courting.

The idea of _courting_ the other almost brought a rush of blood into his cheeks. He could not imagine taking Arthur out on dinners or fancy picnics, gifting flowers or pretty jewellery. Frankly, the entire idea was laughable – if not slightly upsetting. The idea of Arthur courting others was slightly more accepting. He’d probably be all sly and proud about it, too.

It was another few minutes when they had already exited the square and entered less busy streets again. The village wasn’t very impressive, Alfred thought, but it would be good to recover. He had seen a tavern or two, so at least there would be some entertainment. And most of the men would have some release – every village had its brothels.

Arthur had stopped to look at the windows of a building, and Alfred leant against the wall opposite of the street, looking at the other.

Without the flamboyant get-up, the hat, and any other ‘danger-pirate-captain’ items that Arthur usually surrounded himself with, he looked fascinatingly ordinary. He would go for less terrifying, but Alfred knew that Arthur was just as deadly with his hands and wit as with his gun and sword. To keep the impression of simple sailor, Arthur had gone much like every other of his crew – simple brown breeches tucked into black boots, one belt to support his sword. A white blouse covered by a faded black waistcoat.

It was rather tight, and it made the blouse look as if it was too big on him. He squinted a little and could definitely see the outlining of the other man’s muscles underneath it, the loose shirt brushing against the skin whenever Arthur moved.

Alfred thought that he looked quite attractive in a simple get-up, actually.

The shorter man looked around for Alfred a moment before finding him and walking over to him. Alfred didn’t divert his gaze – he was pretty sure that he had leered at the other more often than this, and Arthur never noticed or responded, so why bother? He could have this. He started when Arthur frowned, standing close by him. The other raised his hand and flatly pushed it to the other’s forehead, a calculating look on his face.

At Alfred’s incredulous look, Arthur smirked. “You’re very warm. Are you ill? You might have been in the sun for too long.”

At the concern he heard in the other’s voice, Alfred melted a little, a dreamy smile on his face when he shrugged. “I feel fine, sir.” Arthur looked very unimpressed with him, but he dropped his hand and took a step back. Alfred felt bold, and took a step forward so that they were closer again. Arthur didn’t respond however, turning around to continue walking.

Something had been on his mind lately, though. He had practiced his skill with his sword a little during the past two months, but the crew was terrible to practice with. All they taught him was how many hits it would take for a patch of skin to bruise or bleed, or how he could fight dirty. There was no technique or anything. Feeling that it was safe, Alfred decided he might as well ask Arthur. Should he decline he could always still go to James, knowing the other would reluctantly agree.

“There has been something on my mind, lately.”

 “What is that?”

 “I have a sword, and I have a gun. I’m able to wield the latter one, but I know that… I am quite horrible with a sword. It’s a wonder I haven’t cut myself yet.” He looked down at the sword attached to his hip.

Arthur shook his head. “That brings me back to our duel. You have strength, Jones, and if you would be taught how to work that to your advantage…” He wondered, looking the other up and down. Alfred smiled at the scrutiny, and at the memory. “Have you practiced with the others?”

“I’ve tried.”

They continued walking for a while more until Arthur stopped and nodded. “I suppose if you are to raid with us, you would prefer to live to see the end of it.”

“Quite.” Alfred said, chest filling with hope. “Are you going to teach me?”

Arthur smirked. “I would not object to show you a thing or two.” Alfred had expected a leer to accompany the words, but it didn’t, and he felt slightly disconcerted by that. He actually missed the innuendo’s. “There is a clearing up ahead. Are you up to it?”

“What, right now?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like I need to reacquaint myself with the town.”

Alfred frowned – that fancy word, that meant… “Wait, what? You’ve been here before? Then why did we need to explore the area?”

“Other than securing it from possible enemies, I also wanted to be alone for a moment.”

“Then why take me?” The captain had already turned and ignored him, walking away from the streets into an area covered with trees. Alfred figured that some kind of forest was joined with the village. They reached a clearing in a short amount of time, just as Arthur had said.

His captain unsheathed his sword and looked it over steadily, his eyes glinting over his blade to look at the other man. Alfred grinned cheekily, eyeing the other’s sword before looking at the entirety of the image appreciatively. He was surprised when Arthur actually laughed in response this time.

“You’re getting ideas.”

Alfred scoffed when he noticed he had gone warmer than usual. “I wanted to unleash some steam.” Well, that didn’t help his case very much. Arthur seemed like he was enjoying this though, so Alfred decided he could play along.

He too unsheathed his sword, and wondered if he looked as amateurish as he felt. There was no change in the other’s face, though, so he felt a bit of hope. Feeling coy, he decided to up this game they were playing, Alfred stuck his sword in the ground for a moment. Not looking away from the other, he lifted his arms up and removed his shirt.

It _was_ very hot in this place, anyway.

He smiled cheekily as that did do something to Arthur’s face, but he regained posture as Alfred grabbed his sword again and took position. He considered flexing his muscles, but that would be stupid.

“You know the basics?”

Alfred nodded. “The rules, anyhow. Be aware of the conditions, your opponent, your abilities and theirs. Over- or underestimating yourself _or_ your opponent will always get you killed.” He mimicked Arthur’s accent on the last few words and Arthur glared playfully. “Feel the weight of your sword in your hand and master it.” He slid his hand over the blunt of his blade, winking at the other man.

Arthur, unfazed, nodded at him. 

“Also, reign in your temperament. Provoke your opponents’.”

“You’ve been studying.” Even though it sounded like mockery, Alfred’s chest swelled with pride and he nodded in return.

They went over the best footing for the quickest and best attack or defence. A few jabs here and there were exchanged as Arthur talked, correcting him on his posture or footing. “The conditions are as important as the rest. You’re a pirate, so fight like one. Use the sunlight to blind, use the rocks to stumble, kick the sand in their eyes. If technique fails you, tire them out.”

After a while, Alfred felt his muscles getting a little sore. They were by no means going at it seriously, but all the correcting and the practicing made him grow tired nonetheless. Never mind that he constantly had to distract himself from how agile and quick the other was, or how much Arthur looked in his element.

“Snap out of it, lad!” Arthur eventually barked, when Alfred had been a little too lost in the image of the other again. Alfred sighed and withdrew, his arms hanging by his side. Today was good as it was – he felt he had to study the technique via book before practicing, there was just so much to take into account. “You tire easily because you’re dreaming.”

“To be honest, sir, you’re talking a lot and also swinging at me a lot and I’m not sure which of the two I should give most of my attention.” The joke got another smirk on the other’s face, and Alfred called it a win. “Perhaps we should call it a day.”

“Not a chance. Take position. No, _no_ , you’re full with openings. Relax your shoulders, and keep your elbows bent.” Alfred groaned, irritated, and Arthur gave him a flat look, before sticking his own sword into the ground. He unclasped the belt at his waist and had it drop to the ground, much to Alfred’s amazement.

“Sir?”

“Drop your sword. You’re tense, Jones, have been for weeks. What is the matter?” Alfred dropped the sword, as ordered, but his face turned sour and he averted his eyes. Flashes of the Kraken appeared before his eyes again, and he shuddered. “Is this about the Midsommarafton?”

His silence apparently spoke volumes. Arthur sighed and rolled his shoulders. He approached Alfred, stopping a short distance from him, and took a fighting position.

“I’m not in the mood.” Alfred said dully, knowing where this was supposed to go. He was absolutely not in the mood for a beating, his muscles tired and his skins burning unpleasantly.

Arthur scoffed. “I wasn’t asking. Captain’s orders. Or you’ll scrub the decks for the next year. Though I’d wager you would enjoy that, wouldn’t you. No responsibility, no real duty whatsoever.”

Alfred glared; Arthur was obviously trying to rile him up, but it was weak, and there was no venom behind it. He was sure the captain could do better if he actually tried, but the whole ‘captain’s orders’ thing was already enough. He knew Arthur would make good on his word and demote him, had no illusions about it.

He took a fighting position as well, and the moment he looked back up a fist connected with his cheek and had him stagger to the side. He tripped over his own feet and fell against the ground, wheezing when he connected with the sand. Above him, Arthur glared.

“Get up.”

Alfred rubbed his sore cheek, but wasted no time in getting up and slinging his fists at the other. It didn’t work – his carelessness was easy for the other man, who continuously pushed him back and back until he had to change courses so he wouldn’t crash into the treelines.

Each time he stumbled or tripped or retreated, Arthur jabbed at him or smirked, and Alfred felt more and more on edge. The other man wasn’t even breaking a sweat, _damn_.

“You can’t even hold your own in a fight,” Arthur sneered as Alfred again stumbled backwards, having received a painful right hook to his shoulder. A few more words and sneers, and Alfred snapped. He just about had it, and were he to overstep his bounds… well, Arthur’s sword was a distance away, he didn’t have gun, and Alfred could make a run for it in the forest.

He channelled all his anger into his next few moves, grabbing Arthur’s punch in his hand and twisting it so that it _had_ to hurt. Arthur easily twisted along with his freakish agility, but Alfred wasn’t fazed. He knew he was stronger, Arthur said so himself. Where the smaller man was lean and agile, Alfred had brute strength. He barrelled his body against the other, knowing that there were no sharp objects awaiting him, and took sick pleasure in the fact that Arthur staggered back himself this time.

His face was decorated with a smirk, however, and Arthur’s eyes twinkled as Alfred charged this time. He grabbed Arthur’s arm when it went for a punch again, twisting it behind Arthur’s back, turning the other around. Arthur made a noise, but Alfred couldn’t place what kind, before untangling himself and kicking at Alfred’s kneecap.

Alfred almost went down, because _shit_ that hurt, but managed to remain standing. Arthur got in a few more hits before Alfred managed to catch his wrist again, and this time Alfred whirled them around and wrapped one hand around the other’s neck. Arthur scoffed and grinned widely, ducking and escaping the others grasp easily.

“You’re predictable.” He teased, but before he could put more distance in between them Alfred decided to just charge head into the other, and they both stumbled to the ground. Arthur let out a loud ‘oof’ as Alfred landed on top of him, his hands restraining Arthur’s arms from moving.

“And you’re scrawny.” Alfred shot back, calming down now that they were still for a while. He was heaving, but so was Arthur, and that made him proud.

“But you used your strength, and I commend you for that.” Arthur continued on, as if he hadn’t heard his reply. “Trying to outdo someone in _their_ field of expertise will never prove successful.”

Alfred relaxed a little, but remained his hold on the other’s arms, knowing Arthur could just as easily use his relaxation as another opening to continue the fight. He was exhausted, and he hoped this would either call it a draw or that Arthur would call it off entirely.

“You couldn’t do anything to save them, Alfred.” Arthur said after a few seconds, his voice lowering and tone softer. He looked the other in the eye, not at all intimidated by their positions, and Alfred had to do his best not to avert his gaze. He saw remorse in the other’s eyes, and regret, but also determination.

“How am I supposed to feel safe on a fucking ship when there’s a monster like that roaming about,” Alfred eventually whispered, his grip loosening. Arthur didn’t take advantage, instead wriggled around a little to get into a more comfortable position.

“Are you going to desert?”

“No. No, that’s not it. I don’t want to leave, either.”

His reply got a hum out of the other man, and Alfred locked eyes with him again. He felt as if he were drowning, and he wasn’t sure whether or not it was pleasant. Arthur looked more relaxed than he had seen him in days, even when pinned under Alfred’s body – and he was under no illusion about his heaviness – green eyes drilling into his own.

Deciding that it wouldn’t be the boldest move he had made the past few minutes, Alfred steeled his nerves and leant down, pressing his lips to the other man’s. It was slightly off, he noticed grimly, and as he had not closed his eyes he could see the faint look of surprise in the other man’s eyes.

It hit him that he was currently - or at least trying to - kissing a _guy_. His lips weren’t soft, his body wasn’t very curvy. But despite not being fragile, Arthur felt small and endearing underneath him, and the contrasting danger radiating the other man excited him even more.

The other man remained unresponsive, green eyes pinning the other down. Alfred was about to retreat, ready to jump and make a run for it if necessary, when Arthur pushed back against him.

Alfred’s mumble of surprise was swallowed as Arthur took advantage of the opening. There was nothing tentative or cautious about it, even if Alfred started it that way. The kiss was open-mouthed but not frenzied, and Alfred felt his breath rapidly disappearing. The other tasted sweet, though Alfred could definitely taste some of the earlier consumed rum – which was probably mutual. His eyes were still open, and so were Arthur’s, and he was given a challenging look.

It had been a long time since Alfred had properly kissed someone, but he was not inexperienced and he was determined to show that he wasn’t an amateur in everything.

However, his heart clenched, and he was so delighted with the positive response of the other man that he felt himself turn into jelly and moaned as the other man took control, biting and sucking at his lower lip until it hurt a little. Alfred’s eyes slipped closed and he released his hold on one of the other man’s arms, opting to grip at his hip, pulling him up slightly.

Arthur allowed to be pulled into the other man’s hold and Alfred relished in the feeling of every curve relaxing into his own body. The texture of Arthur’s shirt was chafing his bare skin slightly, but not unpleasantly. He felt the other man’s free hand play with the hair on his neck and was promptly reminded of the slight sunburn in that area, but paid it no mind.

He felt as if he was surrounded by the ocean and freedom, and wondered idly if he wasn’t over-romanticizing the whole ordeal because he had thought about the other so much prior to this moment.

He felt overwhelmed, calming down slightly as Arthur ran a cool hand over Alfred’s warm, bare skin. Their noses brushed as Alfred repositioned and he opened his eyes again to see that Arthur was watching him with half-lidded eyes, a pleased look in them.

Alfred was surprised – but he wasn’t – about the fact that Arthur was actually a pretty good kisser. It wasn’t messy, but it was still rough, and it was fit Alfred’s fantasies all those nights prior. There was still a strange feeling in his gut, asking him if he was doing a good thing or a wrong thing, but he pushed it down.

A cold washed over him when he remembered that Arthur probably had plenty experience with kissing and well, other things, with other men. But he wasn’t about to be discouraged or disgusted by that – he was a pirate now too, right? Pirates didn’t care about those things. No, Alfred cared about the ocean breeze in Arthur’s hair and the rough texture of his shirt against his own bare chest.

But where was he supposed to go from here? There had always been an uneasy, suspenseful tension between them when they weren’t jesting about. Alfred was pretty sure that he felt attracted to the other man since day one, once he came to terms with it and managed to squelch most of his initial shame. Arthur had always kept him on edge – and despite being a hostage, a stowaway, and then eventually a crewmember, he had always wanted to impress the other.

It all felt very different from his crush on the big-busted girl in his town when he was sixteen, but he could acknowledge it was a crush all the same. Perhaps some kind of complex because he had been under constant danger, or because he had been a captive before.

He was thinking too much.  

He parted for a breath, having forgone the knowledge that he had to breathe through his nose in his excitement – and with a stuttering breath he hoped that his excitement wasn’t showing anywhere noticeable, seeing how he was pinning the other to the ground. A quick mental check assured him of his control, and Arthur looked up at him through his eyelashes. Alfred was rather taken with how dishevelled he looked, even if it was miniscule.

“Blowing off steam, then?” He teased, his hand sliding up to tangle into Alfred’s hair and Alfred groaned, bending his head a little to adjust.

“Now who’s getting ideas?”

He scanned the other’s face again, delightfully noticing the slight dust of freckles on the other man’s cheeks as he had earlier. There was a slight smirk and defiant look on Arthur’s face, and it fit the situation well, Alfred would say. His eyes settled back onto the other’s lips and thought that they weren’t just good at spitting out dangerous things. They were so _good_ at everything they did, and that certainly did inspire thoughts that weren’t very inappropriate.

There was a considering look on his captain’s face. Unexpectedly, he suddenly lunged up. Alfred  felt two legs wrap under his arms and around his head, before Arthur pulled and dragged him to the ground beside them.

He yelped, surprised at the sudden and impossible move the other man just pulled, closing his eyes when his head impacted with the ground beneath him rather painfully. When he opened his eyes he noticed Arthur was on top of him, legs keeping him in place at his sides, hands on Alfred’s arms.

Alfred idly noticed Arthur had ripped one of his sleeves. Arthur was grinning above him, eyes shining with mirth as he looked down on him. He swallowed any foolish words or apologies that might come out, opting to stay quiet under the scrutiny. It felt as if it took an eternity, but he figured that only ten seconds passed since he parted for breath.

 He had actually expected the other to dive back down, and when he didn’t he had already leaned back up, but Arthur had a different idea. He removed himself from the other man, and stood up slowly. Alfred followed him as he walked back to where his belt and sword lay, and reluctantly sat up.

At the surprising normal act, Alfred felt a spike of anger – or worse, jealousy – at the idea that this was all in a day’s doing for his captain. Perhaps he even did this with more people, like the Frenchman, to unleash some tension. But would that really matter to him? Despite the jealousy, the idea wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“I’ve said it before,” Arthur eventually said, his tone back to normal. He knelt down in front of Alfred, earlier joy and headiness gone from his expression and replaced by seriousness. “But there was nothing we could have done. The odds of scaring the beast off are already impossible. We can only pray that it went quickly.”

Alfred sighed, remembering their earlier conversation. How easy it was to forget the tragedy and hurt the moment he had re-enacted one of his fantasies. He pushed down the spike of sadness and nodded slowly.

“I see their faces when I try to sleep.” He eventually settled on saying, after a dragged-out silence. Arthur nodded, eyes averting to the trees.

“It’s every man for himself, Alfred. The odds of losing people you are attached to are far greater than back at your home.”

He scowled at that. “It is not as if you can control getting attached to people. I’m not heartless.” It sounded accusatory, and he winced when Arthur glared at him. “That was uncalled for.” He apologized directly after, swallowing his pride.

Arthur’s gaze didn’t soften, but the hostility left his eyes, and he nodded back to where Alfred’s sword was. “Your sword. It should be extended to your opponent, not your arms. That is why you tired. Your feet should be shoulder wide apart, for balance, and you should slide your feet instead of lifting up. You’ll find it easier to endure.”

With that, Arthur stood up and walked back towards the streets of the village, not sparing Alfred another look. Alfred cursed at the sudden mood change, smacking his arm over his head.

Even though his suspicions that this meant something else entirely for Arthur than it did for him, he still felt as if a line had been crossed. He knew that the tension between them would either get worse or better from now on, but he was glad that he got to work out some of his stress about the incident.

He knew the way back, and decided to lay down a little while longer, mulling over his thoughts. The moment he did stand up, and dressed to return back to the ship, Arthur was nowhere to be found, but he wasn’t bothered by it. Once at the ship, he met up with some of the crewmembers that had been sent out for supplies.

Ralph was amongst them, and he slapped Alfred across the shoulder in greeting. He saw some pinnace’s already rowing back to their ship, knowing the people there must be relieved with the extra supplies.

“We’re going to the tavern to see what James had managed to scrounge up,” Ralph said as his group slowly left the docks. “You coming?”

“Yeah, sure.” He wasn’t ordered to do anything as far as he knew, and he wasn’t about to return to the ship just yet. Besides, with the small amount of money he still had from earlier, he could perhaps buy some real food at the tavern. Man, he craved real food.

The tavern was not as rowdy as the ones in Africa and Spain. It was filled with fishermen and young men with something to prove. Alfred narrowed his eyes once he spotted James in a corner booth with a few men he didn’t know.

He doubted they were going to recruit a lot of new people, but it was true – they needed a few extra helping hands, even if they only just wanted to hitch a ride to another city. According to Ralph, most of the people here just wanted to start a new life in New England, so most would be temporary.

Their small group settled at a table not far away from their crew, ordering drinks from a giggly, busty barmaid. Most of the guys were immediately taken with the blushing girl, calling after her and making grabbing hands. Alfred sighed, shaking his head, definitely not joining in on the antics.

They drank a few mugs of ale and shared some of the ordered food – meat, and not fish, thank _god_ – before James exited the tavern with three new men. Alfred and two others followed them out. Some of them had booked a room in the village, but Alfred saw that as a waste of money. Perhaps when he was in a bigger city, but here there was nothing exciting.

Though he figured they only booked a room because Arthur didn’t tolerate prostitutes on the ship.

It was quiet at the docks, and he joined the others in the pinnace to row back. It was very different from the other towns they had docked at with Alfred, but it was a pleasant change from the two months at sea. Even though he didn’t have any interaction with people other than his crew, it was nice to at least see unknown people.

Once on the ship, he went to the crow’s nest to take guard, and to mostly just think. Despite the strange occurrences of the day, and the grief that was ever present in his mind, he felt lighter. He also felt very tired, and wondered if he would be able to sleep once his shift was over.

Being nearby land at least made him feel safer than wide open sea for the moment. He was not going to mull about any other dangers that might now very well have the chance of existing – mermaids, faeries, hell he wouldn’t be surprised to see a bloody dragon.

No, okay, that was very ridiculous. But still.

Downstairs he heard people settling down to play some cards or something, the galley closing and lights beneath deck going out. He looked up and admired the many stars and constellations in the sky, wondering if he would ever have the opportunity to learn anything about them. Perhaps he could learn to navigate them, surely Arthur would have some books on them. He was one of the lucky crewmembers that could actually read, and he could take advantage of that.

Looking over the edge of the nest, he stared down at the decks. On the lower decks people were sitting nearby and playing cards or chatting, drinking merrily now that they had more supplies. Alfred wondered if they had actually paid for it, but he wasn’t going to dwell on it.

On the upper deck he saw James and Arthur discussing near the rail. They seemed to have finished their conversation and Arthur turned around, looking around briefly before walking down the deck. His eyes travelled upwards and their gazes met.

He offered a jovial, wide grin, nodding his head a little. Any more was probably too far away for Arthur to see, but judging by his little shake of head and smirk, he’d seen enough. Arthur nodded back at him and left for the captain’s quarters, and Alfred sat back against the mast, settling for a long night.

The next few days they remained docked at the small village. Alfred was in a far better mood. The change of nothing on open sea to interacting with unknown people that he hardly could communicate with did wonders, as well as being able to sleep better since they arrived on land.

The day after their first day, James had approached him and proposed to practice his sword skills. He was momentarily thrown off guard by that, was Arthur no longer interested in teaching him? Or was he simply needed elsewhere? It kept him busy, thinking about the possibilities, but he managed to shake any unpleasant feelings off. He was glad for the opportunity to hone his skills nonetheless, and had taken James up on his offer.

The new men hadn’t settled in very well yet, mostly because they were the butt of every joke and prank of the crew. Alfred hadn’t joined in, reminding his own first weeks, but hadn’t been able to not laugh at most. It didn’t help that they also didn’t speak English, and could only really communicate with the crewmembers on higher places, such as Arthur and his first mate, or quartermaster.

Alfred found out that the dark-skinned men spoke Portuguese and Dutch, and he had actually taken to try and pick up some words here and there. Dutch was a really weird language for him, some of the vowels he could not even pronounce without making an ass of himself. Portuguese made a little more sense. He did find that some Dutch words were incredibly similar to words that the Beilschmidt crew would mutter, but he heard that German was a different language.

He wiped his brow, having completed any repairs down near the cannons that afternoon had left him sore but feeling successful. They decided to go into town again, to the tavern, to celebrate that all the repairs were nearly done. At this rate they would set sail again in a day or two, and though Alfred had been happy to see land, he was anxious to leave again as well.

Even Arthur had joined them later on the evening, looking very annoyed but sliding into the seat next to Alfred anyway. He sat close, his leg touching his own, and Alfred felt giddy. Arthur had been more or less avoiding him, though he had probably just been busy with navigating a new route and other business. They had dined in the galley one time, together, but had hardly conversed about anything other than the village.

They were in the middle of wild tales of the Adventure Prize and it’s captain, William Kid, when Alfred dozed off a little. He was mildly sure that most of the tales surrounding dead pirate captains were terribly exaggerated, and Arthur’s occasional roll of eyes only confirmed that suspicion. The crew seemed to agree to disagree on how Kidd became a pirate, but rather talked jovially of his conquests.

The Quedagh Merchant was brought up, and when Alfred looked puzzled Arthur explained him that it was one of his greatest prizes on sea. Not much more was told, because the crew had already passed on to wild tales of a buried treasure unfound. It all sounded too good to be true, and they even decided to sing a song about it to impress him with it. Alfred accused them all of being drunkards and daydreamers, before downing his cup of ale and asking if Arthur had known the man.

Arthur shrugged. “I passed by him once or twice when I was with the Setting Friday, on Madagascar. He was intimidating, but he lacked control over a loyal crew. By the time he left he was in quarrel with another pirate... Culliford, if I remember correctly. It was a mess.”

Alfred laughed at the exasperated look on the others man face, accepting a new mug of ale from the barmaid. “You never talk about the Setting Friday.” He inquired, and Arthur shrugged.

“It never felt like home,” Arthur said as a way of explanation. His face softened a little, assumedly by memories. “I remembered this one time. We were at sea near India, and we were all terribly bored. No wind, you see. Naturally most of the crew got drunk. It seemed a good idea to amuse ourselves with a play, and we played out a trial.”

“Trial?”

“Usually, when we capture other ships and their crew, we put them on trial.  We ask them what they think of the captain. Were they afraid and voiced their fears of us being monsters, then they will most likely be treated as such. Would they claim that the captain must be a just man, then they would just be released onto sea without their supplies and treasures.” Arthur said. Clearly he didn’t mean their incident with the Russian’s accomplices a while ago, but Alfred was pleasantly surprised at this.

“So we were playing out a trial. We had just gotten to the point where one of the pirates had been sentenced to death for his crimes, when another group of drunkards stumbled in. They most likely didn’t realize it was a play, and a fight broke out. They defended their shipmate. It was very admirable, but three people were knocked unconscious, one man lost his hand, and the boatswain almost drowned when he was punched off the deck.”

Alfred whistled and laughed, imagining a scene like that happening with his own crew. He was idly reminded of his drunken moment with Ralph. He had seen some of his crewmembers acting foolish and it only now occurred to him that perhaps those were also plays. He had never bothered to join in or to pay real attention.

Because, you know, his attention was usually elsewhere.

Arthur also chuckled at the memory, lowering his head slightly. His eyes were half-lidded as he took another gulp of his drink. He appeared relaxed again, pressed closely to Alfred as the rest of his crew at the table jested about and exchanged wild tales.

He bolstered his nerves and cleared his throat to get the other’s attention. “So, I’ve been practicing with James. Was that your doing?”

“I may have proposed the idea. He seems taken to mentoring you a little, hasn’t he? I wonder with what motive.” Alfred considered the idea of becoming an apprentice to the first mate. He would learn all kinds of stuff. But he was happy with his position as rigger too, so he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d accept. “Are you upset that I did not continue our earlier duel?”

Alfred wasn’t going to walk in on that one. He gave a charming smile. “No, but perhaps a new duel to show off my improvements could do some wonders for my ego.”

This got Arthur to laugh, and he turned to face Alfred more directly. “Your ego? Lad, I hardly think it needs any more bolstering.”

“Aw, you like me this way.” Alfred teased, bumping his shoulder with the smaller man’s. Arthur chuckled a ‘perhaps’, not moving away when Alfred moved closer with the movement and stayed. They shared a meaningful look and Alfred wondered if he would be right to ask about their earlier duel and what transpired afterwards. It felt weird to ask. He felt as if asking what I meant would only make him a laughing stock.

Arthur looked past him for a brief moment and suddenly his whole demeanour changed. He tensed, eyes hardening, a slightly confused look hiding in the emerald. Alfred frowned, turning around to see what had caught his eyes.

He came face to face with a very angry looking blonde. He was quite familiar with him too. Alfred felt as if the next two seconds took an hour – he took in the wild blonde hair, black eyebrows, blue eyes and the new wounds that were just beginning to heal on his face.

Mathias wasn’t glaring at him though, but straight back to Arthur. Alfred saw his arm shooting out to make a grab for the man, but Alfred was in the way, and in a strange surge of protectiveness he grabbed the arm and stood up, shielding Arthur.

He noticed two other familiar men – one of them was definitely Lukas, and he looked better than Mathias did – behind him, looking a little less angry and more tired. Mathias however spouted out a curse in his own language and lunged for Arthur again. Because of Alfred blocking him, the punch instead hit Alfred’s side, and he grunted, pushing the other man back roughly.

_“Gå af helvede til, svin!”_

He was rather stupefied still by the act that he was actually keeping Mathias at bay, and so was the rest of the crew judging by their sudden silence. Arthur had stood up, straightening his waistcoat and scrutinizing the three men who were supposed to be dead.

Apparently his silence and scrutiny didn’t go over very well, for Mathias sneaked past Alfred and was dead-set on lunging for the smaller man again. Alfred noticed that, because of Mathias size – which was comparable to his own – Arthur looked rather small. He knew he could hold his own, but the same surge of protectiveness raised up, and he did the only thing he thought would be sensible.

He tackled the other blonde to the floor. Faintly he heard the crew wondering what the fuck was up, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lukas comforting the other man – he didn’t really recognize him, but he knew he was part of the Midsommarafton’s crew.

Alfred landed a fist on Mathias face, bewildered at his own action. It calmed Mathias down though, and with a soft ‘ _for fanden’_ he stopped struggling, instead opting for trying to push the other off.

“No fight!” He heard one of the bar’s people yell in broken English. “Out! Out!”

“Alfred,” Arthur said, and he stood up quickly, hoping Mathias wasn’t going to have a go again. Instead, he remained on the ground, looking angry, tired, and very… sad? Alfred had his hopes up – perhaps the other survived as well.

Lukas shoved him out of the way to help the other up, nodding at Arthur. Arthur ordered the crew to stay or to go to the ship, following the three men. Alfred, still high on the protectiveness he was feeling, followed closely. Arthur didn’t seem to mind.

They stopped nearby a corner to the docks, and Mathias went into a rant in his own language, kicking around at barrels a few feet away from them. Lukas sighed and turned to Arthur, who had by now regained his wits.

“How on earth- where did you- _how_ ,” He seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat, his fists clenching at his sides. He still looked terribly tense and anxious, and Alfred looked at the docks hopefully. “Where is the rest?”

“We are the rest.” Lukas said curtly.

“How is that possible?”

“Because, fuckwit, we were on the supply ship when Berwald oh so heroically decided to save your sorry asses.” Mathias spat out, going to stand near them again. “And you just up and left. And they crashed, and we were left on open sea without a navigator – without a _captain_ , and _Tino-_ ”

Lukas silenced him by putting his hand on his arm. “We made do. The rest of the remaining crew has already left.”

The supply ship. Of course. Alfred realized that when the Midsommarafton had attacked the Kraken, he had not seen the smaller ship anywhere. He figured that Mathias and the others had been there to protect the ship, or to take stock.

“What will you do now?” Alfred said before he thought to speak, but no one seemed particularly angry at him for speaking up. Lukas shrugged.

“Our ship is hardly in any condition to sail any more large distances,”

“Then you will sail with us.”

Mathias bristled at that. “As _if_ we want help from the likes of you, _dit røvhul_! I don’t trust you to just up and abandon us at the next island-“

“ _Mathias,_ for god sake. Stop acting like such a spoiled brat!” Lukas spat out, and Alfred was momentarily bewildered by the usually stoic man. Mathias seemed to be as well, for he immediately shrunk back down and averted his eyes, mumbling under his breath. “We do not wish to be  a nuisance, Kirkland.”

Arthur observed the three of them for a while, before shaking his head. “It is the least I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, English is not my first language. Also: I am Dutch, and yes, it is a weird language, lol. 
> 
> So Denmark, Norway and Iceland (he's not described as such yet) are still alive.
> 
> Gå af helvede til, svin! – Go to hell, pig!  
> For fanden – for fuck’s sake  
> Dit røvhul – you asshole
> 
> Arthur was on the Emerald Dragon since he was 14. Before that he was on the Setting Friday, as explained earlier. In 1698, William Kidd was hunting pirates, and stumbled upon Robert Culliford – the two were shipmates in 1689. Most of Kidd’s crew abandoned Kidd and signed on with Culliford, once Kidd was planning to capture Culliford’s ship. They left Kidd and a ransacked ship to fend for himself in June, 1698.  
> A song appeared 1701, ‘Captain Kid’s Farewell to the Seas, or, the Famous Pirate’s Lament’ which describes the treasure Kidd left behind. 
> 
> The play-incident I described on the Setting Friday actually took place on Captain Black Sam’s ship, Whydah, but a few years later.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell that I love Denmark? I can. 
> 
> Also I'm going to add Ivan soon! I hope I can do him justice.

The air felt toxic.

Alfred had trouble breathing for a while, leaning against the wall of a building to catch his breath. He clutched his sword in his hand tightly, though he had already fallen behind. He could handle any straggler that came to prove their worth, but did he want to?

He clenched his eyes shut. He _knew_ this was how raids were supposed to go.

But still, it was slightly terrifying. He was glad he had people he could, well, could somewhat trust. When they first landed, Mathias had kept close to him with sarcastic and witty remarks. He had gone off to beat up a fellow pirate though, once he spotted one trying to take off with one of the helpless women.

Glad to know that some of them at least had norms and values.

There was no more gunfire from the walls surrounding the settlement, at least. His ears had been ringing when they started, and he had gagged when one of the newcomers of the fishing village was nearly cleaved in two by one of them. At least he hadn’t seen anybody else of his crew get hurt. He was fairly sure that everyone could handle themselves.

Question was, could he?

On the ship, taking out the cannons in the towers surrounding the settlement by the water, things had still seen very easy. Arthur had looked almost _bored_ , shouting out orders. It didn’t take them very long to leave ship and actually go to land, knowing that no cannon could do any damage to the ship anymore.

He looked up – it was dark around them, because they attacked during the night. The sky was lit up slightly by the fires that followed the raid. Steeling his nerves, he pushed himself off the wall and slowly started further into the settlement. A lot of doors were kicked open, and he wondered if there would be people inside. Surely his crew wouldn’t just go and off every person they’d see, right? He decided he wasn’t going to check.

Still, he was here for a reason. Looking around and looting valuable stuff would give him the chance earn money and send it back home to his family. And if he found a nice weapon, well, then that was his to keep. His sword and gun were great and all, but they were second-hand in the end.

He heard rowdy laughter coming from a tavern and figured some of the men had just broken into the rum supply. He couldn’t blame them, getting drunk seemed like a fine idea. However, he didn’t want disappoint his captain by spending his first raid wasted.

Alfred knew he had to somehow earn his keep as a pirate, right? And not only through hard work on the ship.

He grimaced, passing a few dead bodies – though they looked like guards, not civilians. He passed a few more crewmates, who were scurrying in and out of homes and shops, looking as if they lived here themselves with the familiarity they displayed.

After roaming the streets without doing anything in particular, Alfred braced himself and entered what looked like a fairly normal house. The door was wide open, and one of the windows was broken. Inside it was dark, and he didn’t hear anything, so he prayed its occupants had run.

What surprised him was that he did actually find some valuable stuff here and there. There was a pouch of money hidden in the kitchen area, and some jewellery in what seemed to be a dressing room. He picked up a nice looking pocket watch - it looked like a family heirloom, and he tried not to dwell on it.

“You’re a pirate, Alfred, act like it.” He muttered under his breath, cursing himself.

The next two houses were less successful, one even holding one dead body for him to agonize over, but the two after that had been a good find. At least, he was going on a guess here with what was valuable or not. Though he had seen a crewmate hauling about with something heavy and large, so he supposed everyone was going off on a hunch. Eventually it would all be traded off at the next stop, anyway.

Entering the bedroom of a house on a corner, Alfred looked around. It looked very homely, but he didn’t hear anyone fortunately. There were noises from the other side of the street, and he had spotted other sailors breaking into what looked like a store. Perhaps he should just go for those too, it seemed a lot less nerve-wrecking. Still, he ventured to the bedroom after his search seemed fruitless.

There, he found the armoire, lined with jewellery. He smirked as he picked up a music box lined with gold and filled with diamonds earrings, but as he turned to leave he heard a whimper coming from behind the bed. Whirling around, gun already pulled, Alfred easily jumped over the fallen furniture to find the source of the sound.

He came eye to eye with an elderly couple, looking so terrified of him that they were nearly crying. The woman was hiding her face in the man’s chest, who pleadingly looked up at him.

“ _Fuck!”_ Alfred cursed, stomping his feet. The couple got even more scared, and Alfred cursed again to himself. He couldn’t take anything from an elderly couple – who the fuck was he kidding? He was morbidly reminded of his own grandparents, and he just couldn’t. Trying to look as unthreateningly as possible, Alfred crouched down and placed the music box on the ground.

Knowing that they could turn on him nonetheless, he did keep his gun out, but he slowly retreated and left the house.

Kicking at the rubble on the street he cursed at himself some more. This was terrible. He just wanted to go back to the ship and get drunk in the crow’s nest. He felt pathetic, however. Everyone else either seemed to have fun – which was a bit sick – or was just doing their stuff with a strange sense of familiarity Alfred hoped he would never have.

Sticking to the shopping area of the town, Alfred noticed a little bookstore. He could at least hide in there until it was over, he decided. Yes, it was cowardly, but he felt he was going to throw up and he had already dumped all his dinner in an alley before. Besides, he had a bag full of stuff and his pockets full of jewellery. Arthur had been right when he said this was a rich and religious settlement. The church was probably too full of pirates to snoop around in, though.

The glass of the door was broken, but the door was still closed. Opening it and easily stepping around the mess inside of the store, Alfred walked over to the counter and dumped his bag on it.

There were scuffling noises, and he froze. He aimed his gun at the direction it came from and slowly creeped around a bookcase to see what it was, but was met with a similar fate. Lukas grimaced at him and put his gun away, Alfred following. “Jones.”

He looked on edge, however, and Alfred frowned. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” He couldn’t help the concern – he still felt guilty over the Midsommarafton. And also, Lukas and Mathias had proven better friends than some of the other sailors by far.

Lukas shook his head, thankfully, but nodded behind him. Peering around the other, Lukas noticed three little kids huddled in a corner. _Oh._ Well, now he totally felt like a douche-bag. He watched, still frozen in his spot and feeling rather dumbfounded, as Lukas walked back over to the kids. It didn’t take very long for Alfred to realize that he was telling them a story.

And well, that did lighten his heart up a lot. He _knew_ Lukas and the others of the Midsommarafton had been good pirates, had been notorious. Arthur had even confirmed it, as well as finding out their bounties had. But here he was, not partaking in anything violent.

The kids still looked terrified, but they were silent and looked slightly more on ease than the elderly couple he had seen earlier. The youngest of the three, Alfred would guess him to be four or five, looked enraptured with the story. Lukas used more gestures and pointed at the pictures in the book more than that he was actually telling the story, and Alfred figured that they didn’t speak the same language.

He wasn’t comfortable being there, though. One of the kids kept a close eye on him, looking terrified, and it made him nervous. He muttered a quiet goodbye and left the store with his bag again, walking around aimlessly.

It didn’t take him very long to reach the centre of the chaos. Though it was hardly any more chaos. He watched some of the sailors, Arthur and James as well, take down a few more guards. Arthur looked in his element, unsurprisingly, as he talked with a figure that was dressed as if he had a high position. He resisted flinching when Arthur shot him between the eyes shortly after. The crowd cheered and jested, happy with the results of the raid.

He stalked closer to his captain, finding odd comfort in seeing the other man, and overheard the last of his orders to the crew. They were to clean out the settlement, leave the civilians alone if they could, and head back to the ship.

His heart did a strange jump when he Arthur locked eyes with him – despite of standing in a what seemed to be a field of corpses, there was now only the other man and Alfred forced a jovial grin on his face. He could be mistaken, but he thought Arthur’s face melted into something more relaxed at that, nodding.

“Cap'n.” He said as a way of greeting.

“Jones.” Arthur stepped closer to him, eyes raking over the other man’s figure. Alfred felt a little heated, but figured it was just that the other man checked him for injuries. “Can you believe the rookies died? I should’ve left them on the ship like Emil.”

“Thank the heavens for us, ay, Kirkland?”

“Your complacency will be the death of you, Mathias.”

Mathias laughed loudly, and Alfred only now just noticed that instead of a sword, he was wielding a rather ridiculous axe. He shuddered thinking of how that must feel if it came swinging down on your head as Mathias left the scene. He was probably going to find his… lover? Well, Lukas, and Alfred wondered if it was normal for Lukas to hide out like this. And if Mathias would object or not.

It didn’t take very long for them to be relatively alone, and Alfred felt more and more tension bleeding out of his body as he watched Arthur casually loot the bodies of the higher up guards littered around. Eventually Arthur found what he was looking for, and walked back over the Alfred.

“Are you all right?”

The question was kind of a surprise, and even more so was the slight concern he saw in Arthur’s eyes. He swallowed heavily, not used to that, before nodding. Arthur wasn’t convinced.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Didn’t get hurt. Not a scratch on me!” Oh god, he was rambling. Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing gloves, Alfred stupidly noticed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous. And, freaked out. You know, the usual! I’ll be back to my usual stupid self soon enough.”

Arthur shook his head slightly. “I don’t doubt it. Good finds?” Alfred realized Arthur was nodding to the bag casually flung around his shoulder, and he shrugged. “Well, you can decide for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“A tradition amongst my crew. Trade your first raid prizes off yourself, keep the money. Only the first though, wouldn’t want you lot to think I was a privateer.”

Alfred, despite the nervousness and tear-inducing anger he felt, snorted. “Privateer Arthur Kirkland, Pirate of the Monarchy. Protector of the motherland.”

“Don’t overdo it.”

“Sorry.” The exchange was easy and non-stressful, and Alfred relaxed more and more. He realized that for the first time, he had actually said Arthur’s name out loud, and he was surprised with how easy and nice it rolled out of his tongue. Though he could hardly go around calling the other man that.

They walked and chatted for a bit, Alfred begrudgingly admitting that he hadn’t done anything exciting at all, and had just roamed a bit. Arthur shrugged, approving nonetheless, relaying stories of people who did worse and even explaining his own first raid. It made Alfred feel closer to the other, and slowly all the earlier conflicted feelings ebbed away.

Eventually they reached a more secluded area, and Alfred was fairly sure he saw some people running away and hiding. Arthur didn’t pay it any notion, though it was obvious that he paid attention to everything happening around them. He was confident enough to just wander around though, so Alfred figured that most of the guards were dealt with.

“Stables?” Alfred eventually asked, as they approached a structure which reminded him of the stables back in his town. Arthur nodded with a genuine smile, and they entered quietly. The horses seemed uneasy as there was no caretaker, and for a split moment Alfred was anxious about what his captain was going to do.

He lightened up when Arthur actually took of his hat to make himself seem less intimidating, and held out a hand for a brown mare to sniff. She approached him carefully, before pushing her nose in the others hand, and Arthur made a pleased noise. Alfred was in awe, approaching another stall with a black mare who was immensely curious.

Alfred had always admired horses – strong, tall and magnificent creatures.

He had learnt how to ride them, but they had never had horses of their own, so once he passed the age of adulthood he had no excuse to play in the stables anymore. Sure, he helped out a lot in the summer because he could do the heavy lifting that others couldn’t, but he had never had a chance to ride them anymore. He was under no illusions now either, but it was still nice to interact with the animals.

“So,” he eventually started after a while. He had heard Arthur muttering under his breath, but assumed he was cooing at the horses or something else. Which was a bit ridiculous and adorable, but Alfred wasn’t going to let the other know. “Paramaribo, huh?”

Arthur eyed him before nodding. “I’ve got business with Francis there. We won’t be long, I hope to continue on the same day.”

He bit his lip but his thoughts were never as quick as the words spilled from his lips, anyway. “What business?”

“The none-of-your-business, business.” Arthur replied tauntingly, and Alfred grinned at the reply. He was expecting that, to be honest. “I know you dislike the frog, and I don’t blame you, so you’ll be allowed to stay on the ship.”

“No way!”

“Excuse me?”

Alfred froze, the black mare he was gushing attention over slowly retreated back in her stable. He had meant for that to be in his thoughts only, for he felt the familiar spike of jealousy when the French captain was mentioned and had remembered one of the incidents he had witnessed on the Emerald Dragon.

His captain looked slightly bewildered at his sudden response, before frowning slightly, his huge brows furrowing together.

“Is this jealousy again? That is rather childish.” Alfred scoffed at the condescending tone the other man had. Feeling rather bold after their earlier bantering, and if he had to admit also a little desperate for more interaction with the other, Alfred picked his words carefully.

Well, he was still blunt. Careful was not really in his dictionary, most of the times.

“Just making sure he doesn’t get you wasted and has his way with you again.”

Arthur, to his surprise, chuckled, and looked at him with amusement. “Have his way- you’re such a boy sometimes!”

Alfred resisted sticking out his tongue and further proving the other man’s point, opting to lean back on the stable door and shrugging nonchalantly. Arthur sauntered over to where the other man stood, effectively blocking any escape Alfred might have had.

“Are you sure you’re not just going to be there to take his place, when he does?”

Resisting the urge to either make a fool of himself by blushing or by making an even bigger fool of himself by putting his foot in his mouth, Alfred rolled back his shoulders, pursing his lips. “The idea does appeal to me.”

He couldn’t read Arthur, but he felt proud of remaining his cool anyway. Arthur licked his lips and he cursed himself for immediately allowing his eyes to drop down. The other noticed as well, and his mouth curved into a dangerous grin.

“I imagine a roll in the hay would be the perfect beginning of a new day,” Arthur said, slowly. Alfred noticed it was indeed getting lighter and lighter, and soon the sun would come up. “But if you were to have your way with me, I would prefer somewhere more hygienic.”

 _Holy mother on a-_ was he actually proposing this? Alfred stared at him, wordlessly, too confused to even blush. There was no mistake though – the glint in Arthur’s eyes told him more than enough. Knowing the climate and the earlier raid were partially to blame, Alfred still felt hot, his shirt clammy from his earlier panic attacks and sweat.

Arthur looked no worse for wear, as usual. His hat was perched back on top of his head, and he looked every bit as mighty as usual – but still Alfred felt a lot more comfortable with him than he did before. Probably because he knew the guy better.

“That surprises me,” Alfred eventually managed to choke out, trying to regain his wits. “Pirate and all, didn’t think they cared for soft beds and silky sheets.” Arthur laughed, his eyes turning a bit headier, and Alfred knew he was practically done for. He had to run and he had to do it fast, because he was starting to feel giddy.

“I wouldn’t say no to bending over my desk, but where animals do their business is kind of-“

He was interrupted as Alfred pulled him in roughly, slotting their lips together. He couldn’t help it, he was feeling more and more embarrassed by their conversation but also he felt so heady and Arthur was just looking so damned perfect, and maybe he was a little stoked still from the adrenaline he felt during the raid. Arthur didn’t seem to mind the interruption, thank the heavens, an amused glint in his eyes before Alfred slipped his eyes shut.

The last of his earlier inner turmoil finally ebbed away, and instead made place for a whole arsenal of new conflicting feelings as Arthur allowed himself to be tugged closer again, until he was flush against Alfred’s body. Alfred still had one fist clenched around the fabric of the other man’s coat, and the other had snuck to his lower back in order to pull him closer.

Arthur’s hands were casually resting on the other man’s biceps, and Alfred wanted to sigh in how gentle the kiss almost seemed. It almost seemed as if the other man was reassuring him again, about the earlier raid and whatever. It was nice for a moment, but Alfred quickly felt that he couldn’t handle that. He didn’t want sweet and gentle, not from someone like Arthur. It felt as if it was unnatural.

He seized the opportunity, not caring about boundaries or respecting his captain or whatever, and whirled them around so that Arthur had his back against a closer stable door. He miscalculated the distance and his own strength though, and as they slammed into the door Arthur grunted. He was about to apologize, but Arthur instead pulled him back in and the kiss got a lot rougher from there.

Well then, mission accomplished.

Feeling slightly bolder than before – in addition to feeling Arthur’s hands roaming over his chest and arms – he too slid his hands down to Arthur’s waist underneath his coat. Hearing no objection, he slid one around the back again, to Arthur’s lower back, gently massaging the skin over the shirt. There was no objection still, quite the opposite, but before he dared go any lower there was a gunshot and he all but flew away from Arthur in surprise.

Arthur, dazed look in his eyes but as alert as ever, had his own gun out and was out of the stables in a second. Alfred hurriedly followed, pleased at noticing the other man’s hat was a bit off and Arthur had yet to take notice. There was another gunshot, and Alfred was fairly sure it was Arthur’s this time.

Once he joined the other man outside, Arthur was already rearranging everything. He saw a few men running away and Arthur had a crooked grin on his face. He figured out the scenario pretty quickly – some brave men looking to defeat the bad pirates, and Arthur showing up scaring them shitless.

He _really_ wanted to get back to what they were doing, because it was way too short and it was definitely way too good to be interrupted. He wondered if shoving the other to the ground would be acceptable, before deciding that no, that wouldn’t be.

“We should head back, anyhow.” Arthur had already turned from him as well, nodding back to the docks as they slowly trekked back towards the ship, a slightly gloomy Alfred in tow. 

From there on, another few days followed without any feel of change _again_. Alfred decided that that was just how it was going to be. He felt almost like a teenage girl, gazing down from the crow’s nest to his captain when no one could see him do it. Arthur was more relaxed, however, so there was more interaction again.

After the raid and the additional days at sea, Mathias had also calmed down from his earlier bouts of rage over his late crew. He still picked verbal fights with pretty much everyone that allowed him to get that far, Arthur included.

Lukas and the other boy, whom he learnt was called Emil and was actually Lukas’ brother, were more pleasant. Though where Lukas went, Mathias often followed. And the other way around too, even though Lukas didn’t want to admit it. They explained to Alfred in further detail how they had stumbled upon the lone fishing village. After dabbling at sea aimlessly for a while, they had been picked up by a Dutch company ship. Pretending to be Swedish merchants, they managed to hitch a ride to a small village east of where they were now. They stole some horses from there to travel to the next village, hoping to stumble upon a bigger town where they could properly hitch a ride. Lukas had even sourly mentioned that perhaps it would be better to settle down somewhere, but Mathias preferred it to be New England if they did.

Especially after the raid, the crew had no qualms about accepting them, having had dealings with them before. Mathias with his temper and wit, was still often a victim of the jesting, especially now that the other rookies were gone.

Emil, or ‘Ice’ as Mathias always called him for some reason, had continued his job as a cabin boy slash swabbie, and Lukas joined Ralph to work as a carpenter and surgeon, having a bit of experience in that field. He wasn’t sure what it was Mathias did, but it probably involved heavy work as he was often below deck with the gunners aside from being up the masts quite a bit.

The crew had calmed down about the raid after a few days and all was back to normal, as if nothing had happened. Alfred chanced another glance to Arthur and widened his smile when he found that Arthur was actually looking up in his direction. Not sure if he was looking at him, he waved enthusiastically. Judging by the scowl on the other man’s face he had seen.

 “Yo, Jones!”

He froze and whipped his eyes away from his captain, stifling a laugh as Mathias all but ungraciously dumped himself into the nest. In his hand was a bottle of rum, and at his arched eyebrows Mathias laughed.

“Break time, my man.”

“I’m on duty, and I’m pretty sure you should be too,” Alfred started, knowing that despite being pirates and despite loving the alcohol, Arthur had strict rules about getting wasted during work. Apparently Mathias was unfamiliar with such a concept.

“ _Pffrrt_ , Kirkland is such a stick in the mud.” He said, uncorking the bottle and immediately taking a huge sip. He offered it to Alfred next, and eventually Alfred decided he might as well accept. Nobody could see them up here anyway, if they kept low. “Nothin’ wrong with a bit of afternoon drinking.”

“Tell that to Davy Jones when you end up in his locker during an attack.” Alfred commented dryly, smirking at Mathias’ dramatic roll of eyes.

“So, that was your first raid huh? Ralph and Lukas apparently gossip about you,” he said as manner of explanation and Alfred coughed during his sip of rum. “It’s hilarious. They’re such women.” He briefly thought of Eli but decided to keep his mouth shut. “You seem to have done well for yourself, being a stowaway and all.”

“Yes, well.” Alfred actually didn’t have an explanation, so he took another gulp of the bottle before handing it over to the other.

“Slept your way up?”

“Jesus, Mathias,” Alfred said, a bit offended. “Who do you take me for?”

“We’re pirates, Jones, what do I _not_ take you for. But good, good. Wait till we arrive at Port Royal! Shit’s always going down there. Way better than shitty Paramaribo.”

“Captain has to meet someone there, so we’ll probably won’t stay long.”

“With any luck they’ll just board planks across their ships and we never set foot there. I can’t wait to get to a bigger town.”

They conversed a bit more about their next places of destination, when Alfred eventually asked about if this part of the world was known for its piracy. Mathias burst out in laughter, explaining that it was crawling with _buccaneers, privateers_ and ‘ _other fancy shit they like to call themselves_ ’. Alfred had of course heard stories in his youth, but never really thought this would be the centre. According to Mathias, there were lots and lots of pirates in Asia and Europe too, but the Caribbean was generally the spot to be.

They took the entirety of the afternoon shift together to talk some more, only shifting shifts when it was time for dinner. Friendly banter was all good, but Mathias more than once tried to trip him the way down, so Alfred did not feel guilty at all when he hooked one of the lose ropes around Mathias ankle. He watched with joy as the other face planted the deck. Mathias, instead of being angry, grumpily congratulated the other on the move and amicably they entered the galley.

Mathias spotted Lukas immediately, like a hawk zoning in on its prey, shouted something in whatever language. Lukas looked very annoyed, but nonetheless moved over a bit so that the two could join. Leon and Emil were also at the table, quietly conversing, as Lukas was now trying to ward off any unwanted affections by the larger man next to him.

It didn’t take very long for Reggie to join them, stealing away Mathias’ attention with the talk of the guns below decks, and Lukas wearily glanced at Alfred. Alfred gave him a sincere smile, hoping to convey that he wasn’t going to bother the other. It came through, and Lukas quietly finished his dinner. He didn’t leave though, which Alfred found amusing, but instead leant a little against Mathias, who was animatedly discussing why a flintlock pistol was the best of its kind.

Their heated discussion was cut short when some of the men a few tables over started a brawl over mermaids, and Alfred shouted at them that they should stop obsessing over fantasy women and start drinking more.

At that, Lukas eyed him oddly. “You faced a kraken, and you deny the existence of mermaids?”

“Oh man! Baby boy here loves his mermaids.” Mathias said, slinging his arm around the smaller man. Lukas elbowed him in the side harshly and Mathias retreated with a pained face.

Alfred scoffed. “So what, you’ve seen a mermaid?”

“Plenty. They are common in Northern Europe.”

“What I think is strange here, is that after all that you have been through you can’t fathom the idea of a fish-lady!” Mathias laughed, and Alfred tensed when he noticed the entire focus of the room now lay on them. “Even I have seen them, and Lukas often says I’m not even worthy.” He paused. “Or that I should have died.”

Alfred weighed his options. There was a very big chance that they weren’t pulling his tail here. Especially since he had already met the monster that is the Kraken. Also, Lukas didn’t joke a lot – he had never seen him joke, actually. So, there was that as well.

“Okay, hit me. What’s so fantastic about them?”

Mathias eagerly leant forward. “They’re masters of disguise! They’re beautiful, with ample bosoms, long luscious locks, doe eyes and soft, dainty hands. So you gotta have them, right? At least plant your lips on theirs once. It’s like a magic spell - you could be married to the most beautiful woman on earth and still you _have_ to have a mermaid.” He exaggerated his arms around to fake breasts and pouted his lips once or twice. “But then, _snap!_ They grab you into the water and open their mouth to screech, turning into creatures with clawed tentacles, fangs, barnacles and boils covering their once shiny scales. At least that’s what I heard.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “It’s mostly true, they don’t turn into _monsters_ once they are underwater but you do see their true form, robbed of their enhanced beauty. They’re attracted to ships – the larger the better – and weak souls. Singing does the job pretty well.”

“Which is why,” Arthur said, and Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin as the other man was suddenly behind their table. “There will be no singing once we leave Paramaribo. Vicious little snakes, they are.”

“They lure men onto the lower decks, or to the railings. Men are often so entranced that they lean over so far, they’ll fall into the water. Once or twice I heard story of mermaids actually climbing up ships or snagging them with seaweed! Man, that’d be so awesome to see.”

Lukas ignored the other and turned to Alfred again. “Once entranced, it’s impossible to break the spell. They’ll drag you down to caves underwater and feed on you. They’re awfully strong too. There have been rumours of a frigate being toppled underwater by a mass of them.”

“Yeah there are more fairy tales babe, like the mermaid becoming a citizen once she crashed through a Dutch dyke.”

 “Wow,” Alfred said, leaning back slightly. He felt his back connect with Arthur for a moment, and was horribly pleased that the other didn't take a step back. “That’s fucking scary. Can you kill them?”

“A bullet usually does the job, just as well as a clean chop.” Arthur said dryly. “Though I’d prefer we not run into them at all. So I will hear no _Jolly Sailor Bold_ from anyone who thinks they need to prove themselves by capturing a mermaid.” The last bit was heard loud and clearly by the entire galley, pirates grumbling and voicing their agreement.

“Don’t be scared, Alfie!”  Alfred raised his eyebrows at the new nickname Mathias apparently had for him. By the frown on Mathias’ face, it seemed as if the other didn’t like it either now that he said it out loud. “There are much worse things down there in the sea. Hydra’s, Scylla’s, Aspidochelone.” _What._ “Leviathans too if you want to get all catholic on our asses.”

Arthur snorted behind him, and Alfred was sure that at least two of those had to be just myths. He felt Arthur’s hand on his shoulder and he warmed a little, turning around to look at the captain.

“If it frightens you, just drink your fear away. It’s what most of us pirates do at open sea.”

“I figured.” Alfred deadpanned, eyes gliding over to the drunken pirates on the other side of the galley. It all sounded terrible and scary, but Alfred figured that if Arthur had been sailing the seas since he was fourteen, then it couldn’t be _that_ dangerous. What’s the chance of meeting more than one mythical creature in your life?

With that thought, he forced himself to more pleasant thoughts. Images of beautiful women dragging him down the sea so that he would slowly die, feel the air leave his lungs, weren’t the best images to have while spending a night drinking with your mates, after all.

When Arthur left and Alfred followed him with his eyes, he caught Mathias staring at him with a lewd and knowing glare.

* * *

 

Just as he had promised before, Alfred walked the slightly unstable plank connecting the Emerald Dragon with La Liberté. They were nearby Paramaribo, the land visible if one would peer down the sea. Arthur didn’t want to dock however, deciding that sailing straight up to Port Royal would be just as good. Alfred first felt robbed of experiencing another new city, but was more excited about Port Royal in the end.

The ship was flamboyant, much like it’s captain and it’s exterior. It was the same size as their own, but instead of dark wood the ship was built with a lighter shade. Blue and gold lined the exterior of the ship as well as the stairs on the decks and the captain’s quarters. The sails were a soft white, reminding him of washed sheets, and on the top of the mast proudly hung a pirate flag.

He was pleasantly surprised when Arthur actually tugged him along, entering the pirate’s quarters. Alfred resisted the urge to whistle – the quarters too, were exquisite. Whereas Arthur’s were more of the classy and orderly, Francis was more of the showy and riches. There were a few cabinets with all kinds of things on display, and to his right was an enormous globe. On the other side of the room were two comfortable looking chairs, with dainty little side tables.

Even if it felt slightly feminine – and it screamed ‘monarchy quarters’ – he could admit the place was nice. He wondered what would happen with the expensive looking paintings on the wall were the ship to be attacked.

Alfred quickly focused on the job at hand when he noticed Arthur staring at his amazement with an annoyed expression on his face. They approached Francis, who stood up from his chair at his desk and spread his arms wide, rounding the table to meet Arthur halfway.

“ _Mon lapin!_ If I would say you have a nice body, would you hold it against me?”

Instead of the usual jabs, Arthur merely raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s the best you got? You’re getting old, frog.”

Francis sighed, dropping his arms. “I am simply tired from my trip across the ocean. Are you all right? I heard what happened.”

Alfred was usually bad at reading the atmosphere – but he could almost describe the look that the captain’s shared as… well, he wouldn’t say tender, but a lot friendlier than he was used to. He felt the flash of familiar jealousy bubbling up his chest, but swallowed it down.

“Quite.” Was all Arthur said, but judging by the way Francis looked at him it spoke volumes. Alfred realized that the two had grown up together and he suddenly felt like an ass for feeling jealous. The door opened and a short, blonde man joined them at the desk. Francis nodded.

“Ah, allow me to introduce you. _Sourcils,_ Jones, this is Laurence, my new first mate. Laurence, Captain Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones of the Emerald Dragon.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Laurence said shortly, with a soft voice. Alfred flashed a charming grin in acknowledgement. He had a strange feeling in his chest, seeing this Laurence. For some reason, Eli constantly jumped to mind, and either Alfred was hallucinating, or he recognized the same soft curves and contours. Well, it was not his place to judge. He wondered if Francis knew.

“What happened to Hugo?”

“Perished, while we boarded an English frigate. Poor soul.”

“I imagine. Anyway,” Arthur said, reaching inside of his coat. “I got the maps, you were right about São Luís. Bastard was hiding there.” At the previously unknown information, Alfred averted his eyes from all the gold in the room again. “He was working with Ivan, as you suggested. I imagine killing his intermediary with the Dutch Company will anger him, but his next couple of shipments are yours for the taking.”

Francis looked delighted and was ready to take the papers Arthur held in his hand, when Arthur pulled it back slightly.

“Ever so distrusting, _mon ami._ ” Francis teased, reaching into a drawer of his desk. “Are you sure you even want this information? You know what they say about bad blood, _non_?”

Arthur glared, and Francis consented with a shrug, pulling out papers out of his desk. They exchanged them and Arthur looked over his own papers, muttering something underneath his breath. Alfred resisted looking over the shorter man’s shoulder to see what it was about – he was immensely curious and his curiosity often got the best of him.

His captain folded it up before he could began the inner debate of ‘ _should or shouldn’t I_ ’, sticking the papers somewhere in his coat. He must have pockets there, Alfred idly wondered, eyes wandering to the smaller man’s chest. Nobody noticed his sudden distraction, fortunately.

He had actually expected for Arthur to round up his business and be on his way, but Arthur actually sat down in one of the chair opposing the desk and Francis merrily offered him a glass of wine. Weirded out slightly by the sudden companionship, he wandered over to where Laurence had set down, in the soft looking chairs with the dainty looking tables.

Sitting down in the only free chair, he accepted a glass of something from the suspicious looking blonde. “So,” Alfred decided to start out, nonchalantly. “How did you come to be on the ship?”

Laurence gave him an amusing smirk. “I joined the crew when they passed the Low Countries.” His or _her_ accent wasn’t French at all, so that made sense. “I had just sold my inn and decided a life on sea would be more exciting. And you?”

Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to be a stowaway now that he had a clean slate with someone. “I, eh, joined in England.” He wasn’t a good liar though. “Wanted to cross the ocean and decided to stick around.”

He was still trying to figure out whether or not he was right about this Laurence. It wasn’t as if he could ask – nor would he get a straight answer if he were right. Laurence didn’t know him, didn’t know Eli, so why should he be trusted? He knew he had to settle with the mystery forever.

“Have you visited the Netherlands yet?” The conversation took a different turn, and Alfred felt relief, trying to push his inner conflict to the side lines.

“No, unfortunately. I haven’t sailed for too long, no more than half a year.” Honestly, he had lost count. It was a few months, but not yet a year, so. “Is it nice?”

“The weather is terrible, but that’s not different in England.” Laurence said grimly. “But the people were nice. Can’t say we all enjoyed living under Spain’s rule, but we made do.”

“It’s under Spain? So you don’t have your own monarch?”

“We call it a Republic. Though without an official Stadtholder, the country is in bit of a chaos. Quite different from the Golden Age.”

Alfred looked at Laurence for a moment, before he decided that he was clueless. He voiced his thoughts, saying that he had absolutely no idea of what the other was talking about, and Laurence laughed. It sounded so feminine, damn it.

“I’m sorry, I’m used to people knowing. Or well, captain knows a lot. Half of the crew communicates in primate language only, I swear.” They laughed, Alfred being reminded of the antics of his own crew and how stupid they could sometimes be. “Nobody on this damn ship speaks any Dutch or Flemish, but I speak French and English as fluent as Dutch. So, it’s easy.”

“I’m not even sure if I have ever heard someone talk in Dutch.” Alfred mused on, more to himself than to Laurence. Laurence told him a curse word in Dutch he couldn’t pronounce right, but kept it to that. It didn’t take long after that for Arthur to conclude whatever business with Francis, and Alfred quickly stood up to join his captain.

Francis tattered on in French for a bit, and Arthur was scowling so it probably was something lewd again, but no fists were exchanged and no verbal threats were offered, so all in all Alfred considered it a pretty good day.

“I do hope to see you soon, _sourcils,_ life is so much more pleasant with you.”

“Stuff it, frog.”

With that, Arthur and Alfred crossed back over the plank to their own ship, Francis shouting something in French that made James laugh loudly and Arthur curse. Alfred, out of habit, followed Arthur into his own captain’s quarters, relieved that even though he didn’t get permission he wasn’t sent out.

“That was uneventful.” He eventually opted for saying. It was nice to see another ship as the one you lived on tended to get a little claustrophobic, but still. Arthur looked at him strangely.

“What, you expected a duel and a feast?”

“Well, no. I don’t know what I expected, never mind.” He said with a chuckle, eyeing the document Arthur retrieved from his coat and placed in his desk. Arthur noticed his wandering eyes and gave him a small glare. Before he could say anything, Alfred held up his hands. “I know, I know. Care killed the cat.” He bit his tongue to not add his earlier reply, back when they had just met.

“We’ll be in Port Royal in less than two weeks, I’d say.” Arthur announced, changing topics. He walked over to a table with a large map on it, and Alfred stepped closer, intrigued. “Or perhaps take a detour to avoid… no, no, we’ll be able to handle it.” His fingers slipped from a series of islands near central America back to what he recognized as their next destination.

Out of pure curiosity, Alfred asked where his hometown is. With a bit of pondering, Arthur eventually pointed to a spot southeast in England. His fingers wandered up from there to the north, before Arthur removed his hand, and Alfred was fairly sure that he meant to show the place where Arthur was from.

“England is pretty tiny, when you look at it like this.”

“ _England_ yes, not the British Empire. I believe the smallest country I know of is Monaco.” He pointed to another spot on the map, below France. “Quite ridiculous. England has bigger cities.”

Alfred found that reading the map wasn’t terribly difficult, but he still got confused with all the names. He knew basic countries, mostly Europe, but the rest was still lost on him. Even when Arthur carefully explained the Pirate Round route country by country, the only thing that stuck was Madagascar as it would be an important stop for supplies and the like. After a few more chats about places they would go – Alfred couldn’t help but be amazed with how much the other man knew, and how much he was going to know himself – he left the captain’s quarters in favour of grabbing himself a late lunch and going back to his usual duties.

It was obvious that everyone was excited to dock at Port Royal. He heard a crewmember here and there tell a woeful tale about a lass they left behind, though after some fishing and jabbing he found out most of them were whores that caught the eye of the poor men. It was obvious they had docked there quite some times before, and that Arthur preferred it above other famous pirate settlements, though St. Mary’s Island was a close second.

At night, Arthur again barked some orders about the no-singing rule to any who was on duty. Alfred, used to taking the midnight shift up in the crow’s nest, taunted him a little by whistling but it earned such a harsh glare that he quickly shut up. Apparently he was serious. He was a little anxious – did that mean that it _could_ happen to them?

Weirded out slightly by all the different scenarios playing in his head, involving fish-women and strangely enough Lukas, Alfred managed to clear his head by climbing into the crow’s nest.

It was cooler there, and he was quickly joined by Mathias who had often taken to joining him in favour of company and gossip – and Mathias said that Ralph and Lukas were women – so he had enough distraction.

The jovial mood between them didn’t last very long though, because in between sips of the stolen rum bottle Mathias always seemed to carry - and shouldn’t someone report that? Well, in between sips, Mathias looked over down at the deck at Arthur before he turned back to Alfred.

“So, you and Kirkland, eh?”

At first, Alfred had no idea what he was talking about. Him and the captain what? He was about to inquire further, wondering if he was just asking about how Alfred still hadn’t been able to get himself killed yet, when realization hit. It hit him hard to, as he choked on the rum he was about to swallow and had to slam his fist into his own chest before breathing normally once more.

Mathias looked very smug and pleased with himself, and Alfred almost wanted to punch the look of his face. He knew his own was probably red and showing his embarrassment, but instead of denying any attraction in front of the only other man who was so openly in love with another man, he shrugged.

“I guess it’s one-sided then. Kirkland probably doesn’t have much more room up his ass next to the stick that’s in it.”

He resisted the urge to choke again – that was rather uncalled for. He wanted to keep it vague, but his pride beat him to it. “Not entirely one-sided.”

“Oh shit!” Mathias said, immediately catching on. “So what, you’re his _cabin boy_?” The way he drawled the words gave an entire new meaning to the function that the brother of his own lover was fulfilling.

“Nothing happened yet-“

“No wait I got another one, you’re his _mate_ \- wait, what? Really?” It seemed to honestly confuse the other, and that in turn confused Alfred. “I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him all the time.” Alfred scoffed, wishing that he could stop being so obvious. “And Kirkland over there has definitely leered at you once or twice. I didn’t figure him to be the prudish type.”

“Oh believe me, he’s not.” Alfred said bitterly, remembering the incident with drunken Arthur and touchy Francis. “Just, nothing’s happened.”

“Something definitely happened judging by the look on your face. Aw, you went no further than kissing? How _romantic_.” The words were sarcastic, and Mathias clasped his hands together next to his face while making kissy faces. Alfred slapped a hand to his own face, groaning.

“Mathias, you are such a woman.”

“ _Nej_ , no way, Lukas takes it up the ass.”

“I definitely did not need to know that.” Alfred choked out, embarrassment again creeping up. He was momentarily intrigued though – he hadn’t even been aware that was possible. And despite the embarrassment and the teasing, - oh god, he was going to suffer for this - could he really let this chance of more information slip? Mathias would most likely tell him everything he had questions about, even if the answers would be unnecessarily raunchy.

His hesitation apparently told Mathias enough, and he was passed the rum bottle. “So, you want to know how to _master_ his _gunner_ , huh?”

“I swear, if you don’t stop with the puns I will hit you with this bottle.”

Mathias let out a loud laugh, and he was sure that attracted the attention of crewmembers below, but he was far too embarrassed to go and see what people below them were doing.

“Don’t worry, your dear friend Mathias will tell you all you want to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mermaid loooore!   
> I nicked a bit of the Pirates and the Caribbean mermaids (such as Jolly Sailor Bold), and other general mermaid lore stuff.  
> Also about the Dutch mermaid: “One story, dating back to the 1600s, claimed that a mermaid had entered Holland through a dike, and was injured in the process. She was taken to a nearby lake and was soon nursed back to health. She eventually became a productive citizen, learned to speak Dutch, performed household chores and converted to Catholicism.”
> 
> Aspidochelone – large whale or sea turtle often mistaken for an island  
> Hydra – serpentine sea monster  
> Scylla – nymph that turns into a monster  
> Leviathan – sea monster referenced in the Old Testament 
> 
> Low countries: Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg
> 
> I based Laurence, who is actually Laura (Belgium, yay another female pirate in disguise!) of Mary Read, who married a Flemish soldier (I made him Netherlands here, because story). They met when Mary Read / so Belgium here joined the British military who were allied with the Dutch against the French during, I think out of my head, the War of the Spanish Succession. After her husband died, she quit the inn they had together, and boarded a ship heading to the West Indies, and in this story Belgium boarded La Liberté. 
> 
> Stadtholder – kind of a steward / lieutenant. Every province in the Dutch Republic was supposed to have one, usually of the Nassau family. Shit went down eventually, as it usually does in history. I won’t bore you with the specifics because hell knows my high school has done it to me. 
> 
> Also, actually I think Vatican City is the smallest country in the world, but it hadn’t been declared independent until 1929, so bear with me. (or Sealand if we go into that battle)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My god, I think I've rewritten this chapter like a dozen times.  
> It's slightly longer than I am used to, but I wanted to speed things up so a lot of stuff is happening in this one! Also a lot of information under the cut, sorry lol

The days following Alfred’s incredibly awkward conversation with Mathias went slowly. Probably because every other night Alfred now had some rather heated dreams about all the possibilities, most of them involving Arthur himself, which had led to some rather embarrassing trips to the cleaning area in the mornings.

Because of this, he’d taken to trying to not interact with his captain too much. If said captain noticed, he didn’t say anything about it. He already noticed the jeers that the sailors were passing at him when he again appeared on the decks a little too late, smirking alongside with the crude jokes.

And to be fair, Alfred thinks he lasted for about a day before he begrudgingly admitted to needing the other’s company to function – or whatever. So he decided to limit his time with the other to after-dinner drinking only. Mathias found the entire ordeal hilarious, often sending him funny looks or lewd gestures. He was positive that Lukas and hell even _Ralph_ and _James_ knew what was going on by the interested glances.

Besides, every now and then Arthur would simply walk over to Alfred, or climb in the crow’s nest himself to chat or something. Because Alfred was trying to spend less time with the other, he suddenly noticed that it hadn’t always been him initiating contact. And that fact only embarrassed him further, if not warmed him up and made him giddy. Fortunately he didn’t make a complete ass out of himself every time Arthur talked to him.

Alas, Mathias had given him a lot to think about. Aside from the raunchy things. For example, he had never before even heard of matelotage. Though it did explain why he met so many pirates up until now who were in relationships with other male pirates. Apparently, civil partnership or something was a thing between male pirates.

Back at home they would probably be hung or locked up, but pirates rejected that puritan society, as he had always known. They were very liberal with their beliefs, actually. Though it came as something as surprise, that in pirate law, Lukas was actually inheritor of Mathias, and that they legally (in pirate law) shared their property. So, in a way, they were actually _married._

Which was pretty neat, actually. Why shouldn’t they be able to have the same as a woman and man? Alfred didn’t quite understand the entire problem with it other than that it was apparently forbidden because of the church and the pope and whatever, but Alfred and his family had never been a very religious family. They didn’t even go to church _every_ Sunday.

It wasn’t until they finally neared Port Royal that Alfred had had enough time to mull things over and come to his somewhat reasonable senses. He thought it wasn’t that weird that he was so completely freaked out – half of the thing Mathias had told him, Alfred hadn’t deemed possible. But the human body found a way, apparently.

Thinking more and more, it started being less and less strange as well. Though the part whereas _it_ would actually be enjoyable, well, Alfred was up to debate for that. Mathias had even suggested that he should just go to some brothel on Port Royal and get himself acquainted with the wonders of _adult_ life – to which he argued that he was very much an adult, thank you – and while the idea wasn’t entirely illogical, he wasn’t sure if he were up to that.

Perhaps it would be a good idea – but he didn’t want to. First of all, who knew what the ladies and men in brothels were carrying with them? He wanted to live past the age of twenty-five, thank you very much. Second, they were rather expensive. And though it was usually money well-spent for most of the crew, Alfred thought of home and Mattie and knew he couldn’t spend money on brothels.

Besides, he wouldn’t even know what to do. Did they approach you, did you approach them? Well, he was already often approached, but that was on the streets and even Mathias had warned him that whores of the streets were just disease in a pretty package. And when Mathias had gotten into the details – this much for the entire deal, that much for a little extra – well, Alfred had tuned him out because he really didn’t need to know.

He munched on a slice of bread he nicked from the kitchens, walking over to the lower deck. This close to Port Royal, they could actually see a ship sailing here and there. So far they had all been either pirate, buccaneer or supplies, and Alfred wondered of there was even some kind of authority here. They weren’t engaged in a fight however, the ships not even acknowledging each other.

They hadn’t run into major trouble the past two weeks. Well, they were attacked by a somewhat smaller pirate ship that had felt they had something to prove, but after they were thoroughly beaten Arthur decided to send them on their merry way, robbed of course of any treasure they had previously held.

Not a lot of men had then volunteered to hang off the ship and repair the small damage that one of the cannonballs had done, all of them spooked out by Lukas’ nightly horror stories about mermaids. Alfred, though a bit more scared than usual but still mostly unfazed, laughingly volunteered himself and marvelled at the sea and the size of the ship when he hung from the railings with only a rope around his waist.

It had been a wonderful affair though, because Arthur had leant over the railing and kept an eye on him. He himself claimed it was in case he fell or something, but Alfred knew an appreciative glance when he saw one. It didn’t help that Alfred went down sleeveless and flexed a little more than necessary – but hey! He could play this game as well.

Because he had done an excessive amount of thinking the past two weeks – Alfred hadn’t known that he was capable of such concentration – a lot more questions had come to his mind. He wasn’t sure who he could ask though. When he asked Reggie and later Leon about who this Ivan guy was, all he got was that the man was trouble and that he should hope that we wouldn’t run into him.

Of course this only piqued Alfred’s interest higher and higher.

Second of all, he had heard so much stories about Tortuga, and he wondered if they were to stop there. Figuring this was an innocent enough question to start a conversation with Arthur with, he confidently strode over to where Arthur was leaning over the railings and looking down at something.

He opened his mouth to speak his mind when Arthur shushed him with a gesture of his hand, glaring sideways. At Alfred’s raised eyebrows, he waved him over and pointed down to the water.

It was only when Alfred looked down that he had realized a lot more pirates were leaning on the railings, looking at the spectacle below them.

Next to the small waves that the Emerald Dragon was creating, dolphins were jumping up and down the surface of the water, occasionally releasing a happy squeal. Alfred gripped the railing, leaning over as far as he dared. This was amazing! He had never even seen dolphins, only a picture in a book once! He was fairly sure these were the real deal.

Arthur chuckled at his wide-eyed enthusiasm. “I take you have never seen dolphins?”

That would be kind of obvious, since they weren’t common in England, but Alfred bit back that remark and simply nodded.

"They're magnificent." Alfred said delightfully, watching as a dolphin took a leap out of the water for a breather.

Arthur smirked. "You can make them do tricks, you know."

The other shot him a confused glance. “This doesn’t involve guns, right?”

"If you would propose to shoot one of these creatures, I would rather throw you out there as food for the sharks."

"Point taken, sir." Alfred said quickly, saluting with an amused grin.

Arthur took of his hat and leant over the railings very far, and swung his hat around a little bit, catching the attention of a dolphin. With that, he dropped his hat and Alfred tried to grasp it, but it slid between his fingers and he grumbled.

Arthur didn't pay any attention and instead watched as the dolphin plucked the hat out of the water. With a powerful leap, he threw the hat back upwards, and Arthur stretched his hand so he could grab it. Dusting the excess water off, he put it back on his head.

Alfred was breathless – how was that even possible? How did it even know what to do? Weren’t they hostile or wild? "…that was  _amazing._ Do it again?"

At his childlike enthusiasm, Arthur laughed a little. “I will not be testing fate.” He replied, tapping his hat gingerly. Figuring out the trick wouldn’t be fool proof, Alfred nodded and leant back to watch the animals again. “Now, was there something you wanted of me?”

First, Alfred’s mind went down the gutter as it so usually did in the company of the handsome other man. Clearing his throat and his thoughts, Alfred nodded. “You know, as a kid I’ve been told lots about pirates, yeah? So I was wondering if this whole ‘pirates love Tortuga’ thing is real or not, since I hadn’t heard a lot of people talking about the place. It’s close to where we are, right?”

“Northwest of here. But I despise Tortuga, not only for its reputation but for the navy’s presence in the area. Piracy is not what it used to be, Alfred. While I am still able to bring down most of the ships the Navy will send to me, even my indestructible ship – that how it was called in the papers, if I recall? – cannot handle too many attacks after another."

"We've hardly been attacked at all."

"While I am not certain, I like to refer to this situation as calm before the storm." Arthur turned around and headed for the steering wheel, Alfred following instinctively. “I docked at Tortuga with La Liberté once. It almost got me killed. Tortuga is not what you heard from the stories – it used to be, but the European government have made sure almost no pirate can still enter Tortuga casually.”

He mulled that over. Sure, he had known that the golden age for the pirates happened at least a century ago. With more and more governments and monarchies settling on land, more and more navy and company ships were going to take control of the seas. He knew they were probably just lucky and mostly left alone because, as Arthur had said, they could take any navy ship thrown their way.

Still, he felt as if he were never going to understand this way of thinking of pirates. Sometimes they were ruthless, not caring where they went or what they did, and then suddenly Arthur came up with all these tactics and strategies befit for a commander of an army.

“There is more on your mind.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. At Alfred’s confused look, Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Leon told me you have been inquiring about all kinds of things.” Oh, dude, that _tattletale!_ “Really, Alfred, your curiosity will be the death of you.”

Alfred wasn’t at all offended by that, because Arthur had said it rather fondly and had used his actual name instead of his family name. Grinning cheekily, Alfred leant on a stack of crates in a manner what he hoped looked casual.

Arthur was holding the steering wheel, but they didn’t really need to steer at the moment and instead was loosely playing with the handles a little. It distracted Alfred a lot, the way his nimble fingers were caressing the wood on the wheel. He was wearing gloves again – as usual – and Alfred wondered whether or not his hands would be softer than expected because of him always wearing gloves. He was reminded that Arthur had not always been a captain though, so probably they were just as calloused as his own.

He straightened a little when he noticed his captain had been watching him stare at himself. Arthur gave him an odd look, as if he were inspecting him, and subconsciously he puffed his chest out a little to appear taller. Sometimes Arthur painfully made him feel as if he were but a child not knowing what he was doing, so he had to step up his game a little. It helped that he wasn’t as afraid of him anymore.

“Ivan,” Arthur eventually started. “Is a… well, he’s not a pirate. More like a privateer, but not entirely. Frankly said I’m not sure what he is.” He looked exasperated, leaning on the steering wheel some more. “But he is my enemy nonetheless. Not just mine either, as you have probably figured out.”

“Captain Bonnefoy too, right?”

“And Beilschmidt, and Carriedo, and – well, he _was_ also Berwald’s enemy. It’s more proper to say he’s every pirate’s enemy.”

“But who is he?”

“A former Russian mercenary. He used to work with us as well. We gave him information about his targets and he kept the navy off our backs. Eventually our own bounties were too much for him to ignore and he stabbed us in the back by sending our coordinates to the navy. Fortunately we were long gone.” Arthur said grimly. “The problem is, is that he has an immense amount of resources. He doesn’t exactly work for the government, but they help him nonetheless. Which is a pain in the ass.”

Alfred was momentarily daydreaming about Russia. Another country he had never been too, had never thought of discussing. His world was just getting bigger and bigger and Alfred wasn’t really against the idea of traveling the world, anymore.

“That guy you killed, way back, when I was only just on the ship?”

“One of those resources, though fortunately a pathetic one at that. I would be more concerned if his sister’s ship were to meet us.”

“Sister? A woman, on a ship? I thought that was a taboo?” He refrained from mentioning Eli, not sure if anyone could hear them and if they could be trusted with that information. Arthur shrugged.

“Not everyone has the same taboos or holds them in the same regards.”

An idea occurred to Alfred. If this man were that big of a threat, why not just team up with the other captains? Surely if the Emerald Dragon was a danger on its own, than combined with ships like Scarlet Fiesta and La Liberté, they would be unstoppable, right? He voiced his thoughts, murmuring them more to himself than to Arthur, because he kind of knew the answer Arthur was going to give.

Arthur looked at him, a deadpan look in his eyes. “Trust me when I say an alliance between our ships will only work on the brink of death. Even facing down the Ottoman’s we almost killed each other off. The only problem here is the _potential_ threat. I have not had a lot of problematic dealings with Ivan yet. He is more like a shark prowling a lost pinnace at sea. But he has been a pain in the ass for the last few years, so I feel as if something is going to change soon.”

“Like what?”

“How should I know? For now, I try to interrupt his flow of income and resources by attacking his intermediaries, as are Francis and Gilbert. I have no idea if that lazy Spanish arsehole is doing anything.”

Trying to placate the sudden irritation flaring up in Arthur’s mood, Alfred nodded and refrained from asking further about the topic. “So, how long will we stay in Port Royal?”

Arthur mulled it over before replying. “If I would have it, a few days. Though I think most of the crew won’t bother returning until at least a week, maybe even two. I suppose they need some leave, and I could hardly abandon the entire crew.”

“Insubordination, huh.” Alfred laughed jovially.

“Well, I suppose I have not been exemplary  the past few months. Keeping you alive, for instance, proves that I have a heart. That will not do.”

It took a moment for Alfred to realize that the other man was joking, Arthur slowly showing a wry smile when it finally hit Alfred, and Alfred burst out laughing.

“Fearsome captain Arthur Kirkland has a heart, what would the others pay for this information I wonder?”

“Not as much as your family will pay me for sending back your remains.” Arthur threatened loosely, and Alfred held up his hands in defence.

“I get it, I get it. Every pirate on its own, wouldn’t hesitate to betray everyone, bla bla.”

At that, Arthur sighed a little. “It sounds a lot more monstrous than it is, doesn’t it?”

After all this time on the ship, and after the friendships he carefully created with some of the crewmembers – not to mention this weird thing he had with Arthur himself – Alfred could understand. He knew that, were Arthur able to save his own skin if he did, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill or abandon Alfred. That was just the way it is, and even though Alfred couldn’t be like that, Arthur has _always_ been like that.

He didn’t answer, opting for just staring at the other. Arthur never walked away from a challenge, and soon it was like a competition, the one daring the other to look away first. It was as intense as Alfred was used to from the other, though as he said before he felt less and less intimidated by the other and more and more… well, he wouldn’t say he got aroused from just staring at the other – that would be pathetic.

It wasn’t too long before Arthur bared his teeth, grinning, turning away from the wheel to him more fully. He was about to say something too, Alfred thought, when Leon approached the two from the other side of the deck.

“Captain, we dock in roughly half an hour.”

Alfred tore his eyes away from the smaller man, to Leon and then to the island that they were approaching rapidly. Arthur nodded and shouted for the crew to lower the sail lest they come crashing into the harbour. Alfred didn’t want to, but one narrow eyed look from his captain told him he should get his ass to rigging as well, so he left to climb the middle mast.

Finishing his side of the masts roughly a quarter minutes later, he opted to sit back against the mast, legs swinging off the wood on either side.

Port Royal was, as he had been told before, quite grand. The harbour was pretty decent, and a _lot_ of ships were docked. Arthur had mused before that Die Ehrsucht probably arrived before they did, and had even muttered about hoping that the Spanish git planned to go to Cuba instead of docking here as well. But as it were, Alfred couldn’t find a single recognizable ships in the mass he saw. There were also a lot of ships not docked in the harbour, but further away, so perhaps they were here but Alfred simply couldn’t find them.

Once down at the deck, he met up with Mathias who was leaning over the railings. Hearing the other man approaching, Mathias turned around with a grin. “Welcome to Sodom of the New World! Or Port Royal, take your pick.”

“I can’t wait to see what the big deal is.”

“All you should know is that it’s nothing like where you’re from. And that it’s crawling with pirates, cutthroats and prostitutes. So keep your belongings close and your gun closer. Just stick with the crew, you’ll be fine. Kirkland is well known here.”

“Was that concern? I didn’t know you cared.” Mathias elbowed him in the ribs for that one, laughing loudly and attracting attention, as usual.

“I’m not going to kiss you, forget it.”

“You break my heart.”

“When you lovebirds are finished,” James dead-panned behind them. “Go and set up the crates with supplies. I want this docking to be swift and without trouble.”

They both saluted, although Mathias more mockingly than Alfred, before going their separate ways again to help the rest of the crew. The crew had the same mind-set as James fortunately, and within no time they were docked in the harbour and loading off their crates. Arthur and James disappeared to a booth nearby and Leon gave instructions. It wasn’t too long before their crates were picked up by supposed buyers or merchants, Leon handling the payments.

Sitting down on one of the now-empty barrels with some others, Alfred waited for further instructions – or to be released of duty, that would be better. In the meantime, he decided to look around the harbour and as Mathias had said – it was nothing like he knew.

It wasn’t all that bad per se, or all that shocking, but still. The town looked a lot more dirty from what he could see, and the people roaming the street all gave of nasty vibes. There were children here and there, though nobody really kept an eye out for them, their mothers either prostituting, bribing merchants or just being busy with something else.

It was more chaotic at this harbour too, though that could have something to do with the size. He saw a lot more of flamboyantly dressed captains, though none walked with the same air as Arthur did, in his opinion. Other pirates scurried about, getting drunk, buying things or just roaming around. He saw Mathias run off with some people he didn’t know, enthusiastically cackling in Danish or Swedish or whatever Mathias spoke when he wasn’t speaking English.

Frowning, he turned around, scanning or Lukas in the crowd. He wasn’t following Mathias, but instead stood next to his younger brother, a stoic expression on both their faces. Creepy.

Seeing as Leon had also disappeared to god knows where, and most of them were still obediently (although impatiently) waiting for further instructions, Alfred dragged himself away from the barrels to go and be friendly with the odd duo.

“Jones.” Lukas said as a form of acknowledgement.

“So, any big plans here? Mathias sure seemed hell-bent on causing trouble.”

Lukas sighed, a more annoyed expression on his face. He rubbed his temple, nodding. “Mathias is a child. But no, we are just going to stay on the ship for the most part, I think.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“As your big brother, I will not allow you to venture into the city alone.”

Emil, whom Alfred was not really acquainted with at all yet, made a face and gagged. “Stop calling yourself that! And I won’t be alone.” As if on cue, Leon appeared at their side again, nodding at the trio.

Lukas looked even more annoyed, if that was possible. “Oh no. You’re definitely not going into town alone with him. I’ll come with.”

“God damn it, Lukas!”

Alfred was left rather speechless, watching the two brothers bicker. The three of them left without even as much of a goodbye, Lukas and Emil exchanging angry looks and mutters, Leon looking exasperated. Figuring that he didn’t really want to know what exactly was going on there either, Alfred was in a bit of a pinch of what he was supposed to do. Most crewmembers had suddenly got up and left, a few of them roaming about or chatting with each other.

He was saved from standing around awkwardly, not knowing where to go, when Arthur returned from the booth alone. “You’re still here.” It sounded as if it were a surprise, and Alfred felt a little offended.

“I told you I wasn’t going to desert before, didn’t I? Going back on my word isn’t very heroic and all.”

Arthur paused for a moment, before laughing slightly. “I didn’t mean it that way, but good to know.” Oh, shit. Embarrassed, Alfred shuffled, looking down at his feet. “I thought that you would be in some bar by now.”

“I, eh,” He wondered if it would be okay to tell, and not embarrassing, but figured that if Arthur could get a good laugh out of it then that would be fine too. “I have absolutely no clue about where to go or how to act in this town.”

“Intimidated?”

“Quite.”

It did make Arthur laugh, but not in the way that Alfred felt offended or embarrassed. He was actually quite relieved to see Arthur’s face light up a little, looking at Alfred as if he understood. He had probably had the same problem when he was younger, come to think of it.

“Did you pawn off your part of the raid yet?” Alfred shook his head, and Arthur nodded his head to the ship. “Then get your stuff. We’ll do that first and then I’ll show you around a little.” Alfred was surprised, for a moment, at the offer. It almost seemed very _date_ like, but of course that notion was so ridiculous that Alfred had to resist the urge to slap himself. “ _Now_ , Jones.”

From there on, the day passed rather pleasantly. Walking alongside Arthur had Alfred seeing the town in a whole new light, but that was probably because people stepped out of the way for his captain, avoided him, or were uncharacteristically friendly. He suspected he got way more for his stuff from the raid simply because Arthur was lingering in the back, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He begrudgingly then gave most of his money to Arthur however, at Arthur’s own request, because they both knew that someone would nick it from Alfred himself. If their life was dear, they wouldn’t dare touch Arthur, and Alfred knew that Arthur could be trusted with that. Besides, Alfred was fairly sure that the other had all kinds of hidden pockets inside that ridiculous coat, whereas Alfred only had his trousers, so yeah.

To prove this point, kids had bumped into them and Alfred only just managed to grab back his gun before it would _conveniently_ fall down and disappear. Arthur had a good laugh about Alfred’s expression – a kid stealing a bloody gun. The kids already ran off after their failure though, so Alfred left it at that. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to get into a fight with a kid.

Arthur showed him the area that he should probably stay in, to prevent him getting lost or him getting into places that weren’t really up his alley.

Spending the day with the other was quite nice, Alfred thought. And if he stuck a little closer to the other man than usual, well, he could blame it on being intimidated by the town. Arthur already thought so. Apparently Arthur had lots of business to do, as they went in and out of various shops and taverns, but he allowed Alfred to come along and as Alfred was as curious as a cat, he followed him everywhere.

Eventually they passed a closed store, and Arthur paused abruptly as he looked into the window at what was lying on display. He made a surprised noise, and Alfred quickly stepped next to him, trying to find what was capturing the other man’s interest.

Most of it seemed like junk, in his eyes, though he supposed that the odd antique compass here or there could be a collectible item or something for a pirate captain. Eventually his eyes settled on something that was in generally the same direction of Arthur’s gaze. Before them, behind the glass, lay a toy of some sorts. A fancy looking whirlabout now that he was thinking about it – he used to have one when he was a kid.

Arthur scoffed. “Let’s continue.”

Deciding to not ask about the toy in particular, Alfred nodded. “What were you looking it?”

“Something reminded me of something.” He said vaguely, already continuing on. Well, okay, if that’s how he wanted to play it. Alfred let the matter slide this time, shrugging as he followed after the other man again.

Alfred joined some of his crewmates in a rowdy looking tavern later that evening, merrily drinking his free time away. After spending so much of his time with either his captain or Mathias, he had forgotten that the rest of their crew could be rather fun as well. Even if they were overzealous and a little exaggerating sometimes.

But still, it was why he was sitting with this part of the crew for a change. He tilted his mug of ale slightly when he locked eyes with Arthur on the other side of the tavern, who was in a corner booth sitting with his first mate, quartermaster and the Scandinavian trio. Arthur nodded back at him, shifting a little so he could keep an eye on the entire tavern and his crew, whilst in conversation with the others. Being in Port Royal, he had no qualms about pirates being pirates, and dressed accordingly. In the dim light of the tavern, his red coat still looked as shiny and bright as ever, and Alfred wondered if that was a magic trick or something.

At his own table, Alfred had a hard time believing the story one of the men was telling. Apparently, when they had sailed across the world, one of them had ended up in a country that sounded Arabic, and he was animatedly telling about stories of a lamp that you had to rub. If you did, a ghost like person or a genie or something would come out and fulfil three wishes. This prompted a shouting match in who would have the best wishes, though the rule was that you can’t wish for more wishes or wish for someone to return from the dead. Not that the latter was a popular choice.

He snorted – most people wished for a lady with a big bosom or for all the riches of the world. There was an odd one out there that wanted to be the most dangerous pirate, one of them would wish to be captain of their own ship (but _don’t_ tell Kirkland), other for an endless supply of rum.

Alfred quietly answered that he would love to fly when they asked him, and it resulted in them all laughing in his face, joking that he was childish and _really,_ flying wasn’t any better than sailing. He agreed on that point at least, because he wasn’t sure if you could feel any more free than on a ship,  but his pride was still a little hurt by the jesting.

“I’m immature but you guys are here fantasizing over a ghost in a bottle!” He accused, downing his ale with a grimace. It prompted some laughs and insulted noises, crewmembers starting to verbally trash each other some more.

There were hoots and whistles suddenly, and when Alfred looked up from his mug he noticed some of the local girls had entered the tavern and were lavishly draping themselves over some of the crew. He laughed at the reactions it invoked of most of the guys, acting like horny dogs even though the girls were obviously playing for it.

He felt a smug sense of superiority at his own indifference of all the cleavages, giggles and long hairs that seemed to affect his crew so much. Ralph actually took one of the girl’s hands and left the table, making lewd gestures back to the crew much to their joy. He was about to look back at the other table, to make a face at them or something so that they (Arthur) would see he was above all of this mess, when he was instead met with two humongous breasts almost pressed in his face.

Okay, so he blushed, but just because that wasn’t appropriate. Looking up he connected the set with a face framed by ashen blonde locks and a set of big blue eyes. The girl pouted her lips slightly and Alfred wondered why they always did that – was it supposed to make him attracted to her or something? He has long established that boobs just didn’t quite do it for him. At least for the moment, then. There _had_ to be a moment when Alfred would get over this and would want to start a family right? Or whatever, perhaps just stay with the ship for the rest of his life. Babies have never been his forte.

The others must have taken his thoughtful silence for awkwardness or hesitance, and jeered at him and the girl in front of him. She seemed rather endeared by his silence though, promptly situating herself on Alfred’s lap. He spluttered for a moment, instinctively holding her around her waist so that she wouldn’t fall off if he were to move.

The gesture made her giggle sweetly, and deciding to play along a little for the heck of it, he smiled charmingly. “Good evening to you, m’lady!” Well, girls he could handle. He knew he looked good, lots of girls back in his hometown always fawned over him too, and he knew how to be charming. Whether or not it was the act of trying to get money for sex or not, the girl blushed and giggled some more.

“ _Privet_ sir! My, you sure are strong.”

 _Ugh_ really? That was hilarious. She had a horrible accent though, and Alfred didn’t know where it originated from – he hadn’t heard it before. It made some of her words sound flat, and somewhere in his mind it warned him that she wasn’t from here, then. But perhaps she had recently moved.

Keeping up appearances, Alfred laughed along, feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol he had already consumed and this was fun as long as it didn’t lead anywhere, right? Perhaps the others would get off his ass of him being so prude all the time, too.

Keeping that in mind, he flexed one of his arms dramatically, grimly noticing that his shirt looked rather worn. He’d have to get a new one soon. The girl took this as an invitation to feel around his bicep with small hands, and she let out little noises in (fake?) amazement.

She was exaggerating it with the blinks and pouts though, but perhaps she was just playing a game as well. Slowly one of her hands drifted to his chest, and he felt kind of molested by that. That was really weird to admit, too.

“Your arms are so _hard_!” she squealed, and Alfred resisted the urge to gag and just push her off. “Are you hard all over, then?” She said, leaning over to him more so that he could feel her breath on his face. Thank the heavens that it didn’t stink at least. The others were already back to business with their stories, drinks or girls, so Alfred was about to cut it short anyway. “How about you show me in my room, _da_?”

“I would love to ma’am,” Alfred started, trying to gently let her down. Once she knew he wasn’t interested, she’d probably leave her alone. “But I-“

“Oh no, you must!” Well, that’s a first. Usually prostitutes backed down the moment they knew no money was going to get in. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she grabbed his hands and positioned them somewhere really inappropriate and very unbecoming.

His luck was terrible of course, and his eyes wandered out of their own, to the table on the other side of the tavern. Arthur was watching him again, his face unreadable. He didn’t look to happy though. A surge of warmth passed through him – would he be jealous? Like he himself had been of Francis that night? That sure did seem like a ridiculous notion. But Arthur only ever stoically glared at him when he was doing something stupid or when he was angry or something.

The girl continued to fawn over him and whisper dirty things in his ear, but his mind wasn’t really there to process it. Out of the corner of his eye he kept seeing Arthur looking his way, posture getting more and more rigid. There was even a frown there for a second, before it disappeared. The rest of Arthur’s table was still happily chatting away, not even noticing the little staring match that was going on between the two of them. Neither did the girl, actually.

“How much are ya, sweetheart?” One of the pirates at Alfred’s table called to the busty blonde on his lap. She wiggled around a little, making Alfred more than a little uncomfortable. She said something about being reserved for muscly, handsome blondes only, and Alfred decided to call it quits there.

He gently pushed her off his lap a little, so that she would take the hint and stand up. Doing so, he suddenly noticed her pouty smile change to an annoyed sneer. She bent down a little. “You should really come with me.”

“Not really.” Alfred said after being surprised for a second. He made a point of touching the gun at his belt while staring her down. She suddenly got a lot more intimidating and Alfred was a little freaked out – no way this was an ordinary prostitute, then. His eyes flickered back to where Arthur was still watching them, and she noticed. She too turned around a little and apparently what she saw was enough to back off for the moment. She didn’t spare him another glance as she abruptly left the tavern.

Shaking his head a little, Alfred wondered how drunk he had already been after his… sixth mug. Usually he could hold his liquor better than that, so perhaps he just imagined the strange ordeal that just happened. Or perhaps it was just strange.

Getting a bit drunk didn’t seem like the worst idea, he knew for a fact that he wasn’t paying this evening and he had every intention of enjoying himself in that case.

What he didn’t imagine, was that as soon as the girl left the tavern, Arthur downed his drink in one go and left the tavern to follow her.

That was rather strange.

Alfred resisted the urge to pout – would Arthur actually get a whore?

That kind of hurt his feelings.

God, now he definitely needed to get drunk. He sipped his own drink, knowing he looked as annoyed as he felt. But, of course, he could also do something about it. He _knew_ Arthur was at least attracted to him – and… well, Alfred denied the blush trying to creep up on his cheeks. He could replace the girl, if Arthur was feeling frisky, right?

He totally could.

Had Arthur been glaring at him because of that? Because he wanted the girl for himself? Alfred doesn’t think so – or he had misunderstood completely. Usually that intense look was reserved for either annoyance that Alfred did something wrong – or when he was challenging him for something.

Alfred sighed. Those _eyes_ though. Even in a glare they beckoned him, appearing sultry and heated when they were full of anger.

He pushed his drink away from him, knowing he didn’t need to feel any more buzz than he already did. Bidding goodbye to the rest of his crew who were probably not listening to him anyway, he too left the tavern quickly. The sudden night air felt like a slap in the face, but the slight dizziness from standing up and moving left him quickly. Laughing at himself slightly, he shook his head and looked around for the smaller blonde.

Figuring it had been too long a pause between their departures, he was about to give in when he spotted the blonde mop of hair and brilliant red coat at the end of the street.

The shade of red wasn’t a very popular colour amongst pirates, he had noticed while being here. The ladies wore a lot of red dresses, but the men usually stuck to less extraordinary colours.

Arthur had disappeared into a larger crowd however, and Alfred grunted as it was impossible to make any real progress on the distance between them. At least he didn’t lose him, eyes fixed on his target.

Eventually he took an alley that Alfred knew was a shortcut. It was much less crowded there, people not bumping into him anymore. The people in the alley were either using it as the shortcut, or drunks that leant against the walls leering at people and their pouches with money. Unfortunately, because he had focused on the people around him for a moment rather than his captain, he had now lost the other blonde. 

Wandering around further, less and less people seemed to be around, which was a little strange. This wasn’t one of the shadiest places near the docks, but people seemed to hurry past as if something bad was going to happen. He had a feeling about it too, but ignored it in favour of looking around for Arthur. For a flamboyantly dressed man, he sure disappeared quickly.

“ _Brat,_ that is the _mudak_ that turned me down. He followed me!” A familiar girly voice said suddenly, and Alfred removed his eyes from the people leaving the alley to turn around and glare at the girl from the tavern.

The girl wasn’t very important though, because next to her stood a giant of a man, glaring down at him with an eerie smile on his face. Perhaps now would be the time to turn back. He was about to do just that, without saying anything else, but the other way was now also blocked. A girl, smaller than the other girl but no less pretty, dangled a dagger between her fingers while staring him up and down.

“Eh,” he started, holding his hands up in what he hoped was a placating manner. “I’m just going back to my ship.”

“ _Zatknis_.” The unfamiliar girl said, and he wondered if they were thinking that he could understand whatever language they were speaking. Did he look like he did? Because he was left clueless here. Turning back around to the bigger threat of the three, Alfred crooked a hesitant smile.

His hands went down though, itching around his pistol. At least he could have the element of distance, since they were a few steps away from him. Though if all they wanted to do was steal something, than by all means. The three of them gave him the creeps.

The man’s eyes followed his movements, eerie smile still on place. His voice was calm but that just made it worse. “Why not come back to ship and we talk it out, _da_?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Alfred muttered to himself under his breath. “We don’t need to talk anything out.” The girl from earlier giggled, bouncing a little on her feet. If this was purely because he rejected the girl, then this was even more messed up. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try that approach, he nodded to the girl. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, doll.” The charming smile accompanying his words made her giggle again, but nothing else changed.

“I was not talking about feelings.” Big guy said. “You are pirate, _da_?”

“Yeah and I kinda had an appointment with my captain, so…” Perhaps that would have them back off a little. Wait, perhaps mentioning Arthur was even better. Mathias _had_ said that Arthur was known and respected here, if not feared, after all. “Don’t want to keep Kirkland waiting, y’know.”

He immediately knew that that was the _bad_ thing to say. The man’s smile disappeared, a fixed annoyed look setting on his face instead. The girl next to him stopped giggling, muttering something to the other in their own language. The girl behind him chose that moment to chuckle.

In the span of a few seconds, the larger man walked over to him and had his gun out, aiming for Alfred’s head. He had his own out just as fast, because he was nothing if not slightly perceptive, but he wondered that if he would shoot the other man in the stomach that he wouldn’t get shot in the head anyway as a reflex.

“Now you definitely come to ship and talk it out.”

Alfred heard shuffling behind him, but was focused on the other man and his gun. The man faltered for a moment though, looking behind him, and Alfred was too curious to not give in. Trying to duck away a little while keeping his own pistol trained on the other, he looked around slightly.

“Ivan, _Kumpel,_ that is totally not awesome. Sneaking up to others in alleys, _sei doch nicht so ein Perversling.”_

“ _Privet, drug._ ”

Gilbert was grinning widely, his own flintlock pressed firmly against the other girl’s cheek. He pushed a little to make her cheeks squish, and she made a face as Gilbert cackled. Next to him, Arthur crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at Alfred.

“Blowing this bitch’s brains out is gonna be fun!”

“Or are you going to leave peacefully?” Arthur droned, glaring at the albino man beside him. Gilbert huffed and shrugged.

“Or that. _Mein Gott_ , Kirkland, you’re such a cock-blocker.”

Alfred looked back at the man, realizing that this had to be Ivan then. Well, he could’ve been in really big shit there. He could still be, but the eerie smile on the man’s face was back and his gun wasn’t aimed at Alfred’s head anymore. Now it just lingered next to him, and Alfred took the opportunity to take a step back.

“Good job on Saõ Luís, Arthur. A shame of your friend at sea.” Arthur’s glare turned even more venomous. “Fortunately it was not you. You are much more special.”

“Dude,” Alfred couldn’t really help himself – perhaps it was adrenaline, perhaps it was the booze – but he turned around to glare at the man. “That’s fucking creepy. What the fuck, man?”

Ivan looked down at him again, smile turning even wider and Alfred noticed his hand holding his gun twitching a little. Behind them Gilbert made childish shooting noises, pushing his gun into the girl’s cheeks again.

“What is it gonna be, ruski?”

“Sofia, Natalya. _Poydem so mnoy_.

Arthur nodded his head to Alfred and he walked over quickly, as Gilbert roughly pushed the girl away from him. She stumbled and tripped, cussing at the three of them before walking over to the other two.

“Good boy. You’ll probably be lurking around later, so see ya!”

Ivan muttered something in what Alfred now knew had to be Russian, smiling widely and turning around to leave. Gilbert was wiping his gun with a disgusted face as Arthur's eyes followed the trio out of the alley, until they left his line of sight. Then he all but stormed over to Alfred, looking furious. For a second Alfred thought he was going to get hit, but Arthur stopped in front of him.

“And what the hell were you thinking, following me like some burglar?”

Looking over at Gilbert and feeling a little embarrassed now about the truth, Alfred offered a sheepish smile. “You were following that girl! And… I don’t know, something seemed off.”

“Did it now?” Arthur sneered. “You’re never that perceptive, Jones. Don’t lie to me.”

Gilbert laughed behind Arthur, joining the two and draping an arm over Arthur. Arthur elbowed him roughly, but Gilbert wasn’t fazed. “Boobs over there looked like a whore. He was thinking you were going to _get_ some, I bet.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur looked positively annoyed by Gilbert’s vague explanation. Gilbert puffed out his cheeks a little as he swung his pistol in his hand for exaggeration.

“Me and Francis are betting on when the boy professes his undying love for you, Artie! He probably was going to stop you from hitting that.”

Alfred’s face must’ve turned at least a hundred shades of red, because Gilbert burst out in laughter again, waving his hand and pistol to Alfred’s face. Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved the German off of him roughly.

“It’s _Arthur_ , you twat.” Arthur said while Alfred yelled out a “Dude, not cool!” at the same time. Gilbert’s laughter eventually died out, thanks to some venomous glaring and Alfred threatening to punch him, sheathing his pistol back on his belt.

“I am definitely the coolest.” He said in response to Alfred, ignoring Arthur. “I totally saved your asses over there.”

“Doubtful.” Arthur muttered.

“If it had only been you he would’ve totally let you shoot her. Boobs is the only sister that he really likes.”

“And that’s why Natalya commandeers her own war ship and Sofia stays in Port Royal, then?” Arthur snapped back. Alfred forgotten, the two captains in front of them started bickering a little about Gilbert’s _heroic_ appearance and Arthur’s incompetence of seeing a threat when there is one – whereas Arthur threatened that he could take down everything Gilbert would throw at him and then some. He was about to offer to go back to the ship and sulk in embarrassment for the rest of the night, when both of them turned around to him.

“Enough, the awesome me has to make sure Ludwig hasn’t killed anyone yet over his pet.”

“Feliciano is still with you?”

“ _Ja._ He finally cracked, speaks German too. You should see Ludwig, it’s disgusting. Even gave him permission to visit his little _bruder_ and all by himself.”

Arthur’s shoulders sagged. “Damn it, Carriedo is here?”

“Of course! The Bad Touch Trio needs to cause some more trouble before we go our separate ways.” Bad Touch what? Alfred frowned lightly but Arthur shook his head, muttering something about wankers and twats, before grabbing Alfred’s arm and dragging him away from Gilbert to the docks. “Bye suckers!” Gilbert yelled as they left, also turning around to head back into town.

Arthur all but dragged him back to the ship, all the while in silence. Alfred was feeling a little uncomfortable, but he figured that the worst that could happen was more yelling and perhaps even some rules or something – like don’t leave the ship for the rest of the leave (which would suck) or mopping the decks (which would still suck).

Once at the ship, Arthur released his hold on the other man’s arm and turned around with a scrutinizing glare. “So, why did you follow me?”

Deciding that Arthur would sniff out a lie as if he were a hound, Alfred stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Like Beilschmidt said.”

That stunned Arthur into silence at least, which was kind of a victory for Alfred. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked at Alfred for a moment, hesitation clear in his eyes before it was replaced with amusement.

“You thought that I was going to-“ Alfred nodded, saving Arthur the embarrassment of having to say it out loud. Arthur surprised him with a chuckle, however. “So what? You thought, instead of me paying her, I could pay you?”

Alfred shuffled his feet a little. “I hadn’t thought of payment, no.”

The confession got Arthur to shut up again, the hard lines on his face surprisingly softening, an almost fond look on his face for a second. Alfred almost missed it because it was immediately replaced with amusement and the usual irritation, but it had been there.

“Oh, Alfred.” Arthur said, shaking his head. “Come along, then.”

“What?” Alfred felt his hand being gripped as he was tugged to the captain’s quarters. His insides did all kinds of jumps and splits as he obediently followed, momentarily memorizing the texture of the other man’s glove on his bare hand.

He was pushed inside, and Arthur shut and locked the door behind him, leaning against it. Alfred had to calm himself slightly as Arthur smirked and crooked a finger to him to come closer.

Alfred did step a few steps closer, but was delighted when Arthur didn’t deem it as close enough and tugged him even closer by his shirt. Holding his shirt in one hand, Arthur played with the fabric idly. “You’re quite full of yourself, believing I would choose you over a beautiful woman.”

“You’re not fooling me with that.” Alfred growled, slightly irritated. Arthur shrugged, fingers dancing over the revealed skin at the top of Alfred’s shirt.

 “So, you are not interested in women?” At his silence, Arthur prodded further. “Your supposed fiancée. What did she look like?”

“I guess she was pretty.”

“Define pretty.”

Alfred sighed a little, he really didn’t want to talk about Hannah while they were in this position. Arthur didn’t look as if he could just ignore him, though.  “I don’t know, long hair, big eyes, slim figure and nice curves. I didn’t really look at her that way.”

“So you didn’t fancy her?”

“Not at all. She was more like an annoying little sister. I guess the arranged part of the ordeal kind of killed the fire, you know?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied with a chuckle. “Was it because of another girl?”

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but his breath hitched slightly when Arthur actually pushed one of his legs between his own, pulling him a little closer again. “No girl none so ever.”

Arthur made a slow ‘hmm’ noise, his hands lingering around on the other man’s chest. “What to do with you, what to do with you.” He mused, fingers deftly unbuttoning Alfred’s shirt and almost touching his skin. He knew he was holding his breath, and wondered if he looked half as stupid as he felt, burning holes into the other man’s head. “What do you want me to do with you?”

_A lot._

Many different things appeared in his mind, but his mouth didn’t work along, as usual. “I- I don’t… what?” Arthur peered back up to him, eyes glinting mischievously underneath his lashes. Alfred shivered as Arthur’s gloved hands dived into the opening of his shirt, caressing his ribs.

“What do _you_ want to do to me?”

Shoving his initial awkwardness aside, Alfred knew that that was totally a proposition of some sorts. He ignored the moan that tumbled out of his mouth at the look the other man gave him, instead ducking down to capture the other man’s lips with his own. Regrettably Arthur’s hands left his chest, but his arms wrapped around the others neck instead to pull him even closer – he wasn’t aware that was possible, but there it was.

He felt rustling behind his neck, realizing Arthur was removing his gloves. Hearing the small thud when they hit the ground inspired him, and he roughly tried to shove the other man’s coat off. Arthur allowed it, the item falling down on the ground in a heap. He briefly wondered if that was a good idea – seeing how proud the man was of his attire – but Arthur didn’t seem to care. That in turn inspired him to run one hand through the other man’s hair, the hat also falling off. If anything, it only provoked Arthur to be more intense, so that was good.

He felt as if they had been kissing each other senseless for forever –which, to be fair, seemed ideal to him actually – when Arthur started tugging on his neck. His own hands were gripping the other man’s waist and lower back, so when Arthur ground up against him he was more than glad to help a little. It took him slightly by surprise as Arthur suddenly reached up and hooked both his legs around his own waist, but readjusted himself easily so that he could hold the other man and push him back against the door. It creaked ominously, and Alfred wondered how good the lock was.

“You have no idea, Jones.” He mused as he ran his hands over Alfred’s muscles. Well, all the appreciative stares had given Alfred a fair idea of what turned the other man on. It seemed he had the advantage in this area, for once.

Still, he was nervous of the possibility of accidentally opening the door. He took a step back, carrying Arthur further down into his quarters. That was definitely a good move, because Arthur broke the kiss and moaned appreciatively. Alfred realized it was the first time he heard a noise like that from the other man, and it did wonders to his insides and lower areas.

 “My, you _are_ strong.”

Alfred held in a hysterical laugh at that, managing to only smirk when Arthur’s eyes raked over him again. “You’re just like that girl, now.” Arthur chuckled breathily, his legs tightening around the other man as he pushed a little. Alfred groaned, looking for somewhere to push the other man against lest he fall down purely because he was getting too much into it.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Paying me so that you could do anything you want to me.”

“ _Fuck,_ Arthur.” He silenced immediately. That was definitely the first time he called his captain by his first name, and what a moment it was. Arthur wasn’t fazed at all though, nodding to his side. Desk? Yes, definitely the desk. He didn’t need to be told twice. Staggering over and relishing in the way Arthur was sucking at his neck, he removed an arm from Arthur to swipe at the offending objects on the desk. He hoped none of it was fragile or important, but he really couldn’t care less right now.

He all but unceremoniously dropped the other man on it, allowing himself to be dragged along. Knowing Arthur apparently liked a little show of strength, Alfred’s hands grabbed the other man’s wrists and pulled them down, pushing Arthur down on the desk. He felt Arthur remove his hands from him again, but he was too busy tangling up the others hair and tugging his shirt out of his own trousers to notice where they were going.

Arthur was momentarily interrupted though, as Alfred got fed up with the shirt and decided to just rip through the remaining buttons and pushing it of the smaller man. He felt proud – Arthur moaned lewdly at the little act Alfred performed, muttering something before going back to what he was doing. Alfred froze as one of Arthur’s hands played with the hairs underneath his navel and suddenly slipped right into his pants, forgoing all sense of slowness as his cock was grabbed with nimble fingers. 

He backed off, Arthur’s hand slipping out of his trousers, because _damn_ that went fast enough for Alfred almost to be done right then and there. Arthur scowled and looked offended for a moment, and Alfred quickly returned to pushing the other man to the desk. “No, no, I didn’t mean-“

“My god, you have never done this before, have you?” Arthur wasn’t having his affections right now, turning his head in favour of smirking and pushing Alfred off slightly so they could look at each other.

Alfred was sure his face turned all kinds of red. “I totally have!”

“You are _such_ a bad liar.”

“Okay, so maybe not. Well, not entirely. I did some stuff. Not with a man though. Do we really need to have this conversation?”

Arthur laughed at that, looking strangely innocent and boyish as he did, even though he looked like perfect jerk-off material at the moment. One of Arthur’s hands – Alfred realized that was the same hand that had gripped him and he felt more blood rush to his head – covered his face as he rode out his laughter.

“You done, yeah?” Alfred said, feeling a little insulted and annoyed. Arthur removed his hand and smirked to him, instead moving up slightly to caress the his face. Between the embarrassment and arousal that were fighting over dominance inside of his head, Alfred appreciated how messy the other man looked.

Arthur pulled him down and kissed him again, slower and a lot more sensual than before. Alfred couldn’t resist to moan appreciatively at the way the other’s tongue mapped out his own mouth, dirty yet not really.

“So I have to teach you everything, still?”

“Not everything. I talked with- never mind.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up again, as if he were going to laugh again, but he held it in this time, choosing to send him a heated look instead. “You talked with someone about the dirty things you wanted to do to another man?”

He made it sound so awkward, damn it. “Basically.” Alfred chose to say, before hiding his face in the other man’s neck. He felt Arthur’s throat rumble a little with laughter again – this was the most laughter he had ever heard from the other man, if only it were because of other reasons. It did lighten his mood, however.

“Then, just follow my lead. That is not too difficult, is it?”

“Shut up.” He decided to take back the lead in this situation by sinking his teeth in the other man’s neck. Arthur cursed threateningly but it wore out into a moan at the end as Alfred starting sucking on the mark, repeating the gesture to the unmarred skin next to it.

This time, when Arthur’s hand slipped back into his trousers, he was more prepared. His forehead rested on the other man’s shoulders, heaving as Arthur was whispering all kinds of dirty things in his ears. Blissfully enjoying the treatment however made Alfred forget about his part of the deal, and Arthur reminded him of such while sharply biting his earlobe.

The angle they were in with lying on the desk and all made it kind of difficult, but Arthur was agile and knew how to work around it. It didn’t take very long for Alfred to also slip a hand into the other man’s trousers, finding an already erect length waiting for him there. It felt kind of strange and awkward, but Arthur was making all kinds of noises so he guessed he was doing something right.

Before long, he was mimicking the other movements, trying to stay focused on his own job. After all that practice on himself, Alfred at least knew how to do a hand job, he told himself. Though it was really difficult with Arthur’s hands all over him and rubbing at his own erection, but he managed. Eventually Arthur grabbed his free hand and placed it at his hip. Instinctively, Alfred grabbed it and held it tightly, and Arthur’s hand went back to his hair where it tugged fiercely so that they could meet in a kiss again.

He felt a familiar heat pooling in his lower stomach, and faltered as he tried to deny himself to come already. Arthur wasn’t precisely happy with that, reaching up to grind their hips together. Alfred sighed and leant his forehead on the other man’s.

“You look _so_ good right now,” Alfred rasped out, noticing he was still holding the other man’s hip in a death grip. He forced himself to lessen his grip on the other man’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles in what had to be bruises in the next morning. The tender motion again made Arthur scowl, and he rolled his hips harshly.

“Do not treat me like a girl.” He said viciously. Alfred thought that was rather uncalled for – but the other man gave him a look so fierce, that he had to take a moment to breathe.

 “Do you ever stop being such a dick?” He managed to snap back. Ha, dick. Alfred couldn’t laugh over his own joke though, Arthur’s face infuriating him. He looked smug, and condescending, and disappointed all in one, and Alfred wasn’t having it. Deciding that if Arthur had admired his strength before, and that he would probably admire it again, he grabbed hold of the Arthur’s hand in his pants and the other, pushing them above their heads and holding them there tightly.

The smug look on Arthur’s face was wiped away easily as Alfred – Mathias voice nagging away in the back of his mind and he was _really really_ uncomfortable with that – decided to try out something else. Shoving Arthur’s pants down his hips, and then his own, he decided not to look too much lest it suddenly break down his nerves, and pushed their hips together.

Arthur groaned when their erections made contact and rubbed against each other, his smirk still on his face but looking a lot less smug.

Though he praised himself for lasting as long as he did, when the familiar pool of heat came, this time he wasn’t able to prevent it from happening. He had originally planned to move back or whatever, but Arthur had him in a tight grip with his legs. Not wanting to be outdone, his free hand reached back down and circled both of them, his thumb rubbing at the tip of Arthur’s length to spur him on a little.

With a low groan and a shudder, he came, but at least had the sense not to crush the smaller man beneath him. He did however, indulge in Arthur’s reaction of an earlier action, and again bit harshly into the other man’s shoulder.

He was sad that he couldn’t see the other’s expression, but Arthur groaned out a _holy fuck_ in his ear as he felt that not only he came in that minute. He tugged them both through it, both heavily breathing. Lips against the other’s throat, he felt the familiar rumble of amusement and he leaned up, scoffing when he saw Arthur smirking at him,

“Oh shut up.” Alfred snapped, feeling brave enough to interrupt the other man and leaning down to kiss the other man. It took Arthur a while to respond, but it was cut short because his response came in Arthur pushing the other man off of him and tucking himself back into his pants. Alfred probably blushed a bright scarlet, seeing (and feeling) the mess on both of their stomachs. Arthur however, stoically picked up his shirt and wiped at it.

“Did you have to go all cannibalistic on my neck?” Arthur eventually taunted, rubbing the bite marks. Alfred felt strangely proud and shrugged, showing off a lopsided smile that made Arthur roll his eyes.

Now that his initial high was over and he felt more focused again, his gaze was trapped on the other man’s chest. Next to the occasional odd tattaw here and there, it was marred with scars as well. He winced when he already saw dark bruises forming near Arthur’s hipbones, presumably of his own hands. Though Arthur had guided his hand there himself.

Figuring that it wouldn’t be the worst thing that would happen that day, he reached out and let his fingers dance over a tattaw on Arthur’s chest. It looked suspiciously much like the Emerald Dragon, fully rigged and all. It was neat, kind of narcissistic, but it fit the man.

“It means I sailed around Cape Horn.” Arthur eventually said as Alfred withdrew his hands.

“They have meanings?”

“Yes. Either they are souvenirs from places I went, or they represent something.” Alfred made a funny face at the souvenirs remark, and Arthur shrugged. “It’s a souvenir you can’t lose. Unless you chop of your limbs. Here,” He pointed at his unbruised hip, where a swallow flying in a sunset showed. “A swallow means that I have gone to sea. The superstition is that if you die, a swallow will carry your soul.”

He then proceeded to point to his shoulders, turning around slightly so that Alfred could see. “The dragon, I got in Singapore. The Anchor on my side I got in England, when I first crossed the Atlantic and returned. The tribal ones are simply souvenirs.”

“So how do they do that anyway? Paint your skin like that, permanently.”

“It’s not really permanent, it fades over the years. You paint your skin by damaging it with needles and rubbing the pigment in. It was usually ash or gunpowder, which hurts like a bitch. Though local tribes often have other concoctions.”

Alfred reached out again to touch Arthur’s lower arm, fingers dancing over the tattuw there. “And the star?” It was a nautical star if Alfred was correct. Arthur snatched his arm back, looking away.

“That one is private.” He snapped. Funny place, you’d think you would tattuw private things on less visible places. Alfred grimaced and decided to settle with the answer and divert the conversation elsewhere, but Arthur had already withdrawn and fixed him with a glare. “You should leave, by the way. If I’m not mistaken, you have watch.”

Alfred was stunned by the sudden mood change. They had just- what? Wondering if Arthur was just fucking with him, he was unpleasantly surprised when he hadn’t been. Arthur glared him down, managing to look menacing even half-dressed and messy. Arthur threw his shirt to him, which he caught reflexively, wiping away the hardening junk on his own stomach before pulling it on with a grimace. He did have watch though, shit.

Deciding that the tattuw might have been a sensitive subject, Alfred simply nodded and offered a lopsided smile, before hurriedly exiting the captain’s quarters. As he looked back before closing the door, he saw Arthur cleaning up the desk with an unreadable expression on his face. He looked horribly tense, but Alfred had no idea what was wrong in the first place.

Settling on waiting the night for the other to cool down, and then ask more questions, Alfred trudged over to the top of the mast and climbed up slowly. He felt tired and worn-out, but he was going to have to suck it up for at least a few more hours.

He was surprised however, and a little irritated by the fact that Mathias was already lounging about in the crow’s nest. Mathias was just as surprised, however.

“What? I thought you were with Kirkland. Figured I’d take your shift and cover for you. Did you tap that-“

“Don’t even start, Mathias, I’m not in the mood.”

Mathias hummed, offering him the bottle of rum that was so permanently in Mathias’ hands. He had no qualms with accepting it and taking a few big gulps, the warmth of the alcohol colliding nicely with the warm night air.

“Perhaps he just needs to warm up to you, eh?” Leave it to Mathias to be unable to have comfortable silences. Alfred groaned and decided on nodding, hoping that was indeed it. He had seemed rather into it at first – hell, Arthur had started it in the first place. It had been perfectly fine, almost felt normal aside for the fact that he saw stars, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He dreaded thinking about the fact that Arthur indeed had just wanted to get off, whether it be with Alfred or with a girl, as he thought about Francis and how Arthur was usually with the man. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Alfred looked over the other man beside him.

“Do you have tattuws?”

“Of course. I’m not going to strip for you,”

“I didn’t ask that, idiot. Describe them.”

“I got crossed anchors on my arm when I became boatswain to Berwald. Though it was useless soon after when I became quartermaster… and now I am nothing, of course. A kick-ass axe on my arm, and a swallow on my- never mind. I don’t have a swallow.” Alfred knew where the swallow was, and he definitely didn’t want to know.

“Oh, and this beaut!” He rolled up his sleeve. Almost identical to where Arthur had it, a nautical star was situated on the inside of his wrist. It was decorated differently however. “Lukas has the same, the sentimental little bastard.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a talisman, to guide the wanderer home. Wherever that is, as long as it is with my boo.”

Alfred thought of Arthur, and the brother he had left behind, and the brothers that had abandoned him, and shut up for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, English is not my first language, and I didn't re-proofread this chapter, shucks
> 
> I’M CRYING BRAT IS BROTHER IN RUSSIAN. Ivan sure is a brat. 
> 
> Drug- Friend  
> Zatknis – shut up  
> Kumpel – matey  
> Sei doch nicht so ein Perversling – don’t be such a pervert  
> Poydem so mnoy – come with me 
> 
> Port Royal – A city located at the end of Palisadoes at the mouth of the Kingston Harbor, in southeastern Jamaica. It was founded in 1518 and was the center of shipping commerce in the Caribbean Sea. It was destroyed by an earthquake in 1692, about twenty years prior to this story. It's still popular in 1711, but it's popularity was steadily taken over by the town of Kingston. It’s also more common to be a place of execution for pirates during these years, but for the sake of the story it’s more of a safe haven still. 
> 
> The Navy I was talking about – by 1700, the European States had enough troops and ships at their disposal to begin better protecting the important colonies in the West Indies and in the Americas without relying on the aid of privateers. Thus, this spelled the doom for the buccaneer and pirate. After 1730, most Pirates disappeared from this place too, chased from the seas by a new English Royal Navy squadron based at Port Royal.
> 
> Sodom of the New World – By the 1660s the city had become a pirate utopia and had gained a reputation as the Sodom of the New World. Sodom is a city mentioned in the Book of Genesis. In Abrahamic religions, Sodom and Gomorrah have become synonymous with impenitent sin, and their fall with a proverbial manifestation of divine retribution. Sodom and Gomorrah have been used as metaphors for vice and homosexuality viewed as a deviation. 
> 
> YEAH the gay marriage thing with pirates is a real thing. With no women aboard, how can you blame them lol. The French eventually tried to counteract the spike in homosexuality by sending prostitutes to, i.e. Tortuga, but it only resulted in the gay couples having threesomes with the women. Man, I love history. 
> 
> Tattaw – During the 18th century, tattoo’s weren’t called tattoo’s yet. I used Captian Cook’s (1771) spelling, tattaw.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning : I am an asshole lol fight me

The next few days in Port Royal had proven to be very uneventful for Alfred. He had originally planned to corner Arthur and talk about what happened, but the next morning he was nowhere to be seen. Angry at that, he ventured into the town and decided not to return until midnight. When he did return at a late hour, the Emerald Dragon was nowhere to be found.

Alfred’s heart had clutched in fear – he wouldn’t have, would he?

But he was immediately soothed when Lukas came over to him and explained that Arthur and Francis had gone to raid a coast city in Cuba, and would be back within a few days. Which still angered him – why wasn’t he notified, or taken along? Apparently a few more members of the crew had stayed behind. He felt slightly betrayed too, Mathias had gone and hadn’t even told him. They’d drank together that afternoon too!

Lukas offered for him to share his room, as it had two beds and neither men were likely to bring back women. When Alfred questioned about Emil, Lukas had grumbled angrily that he had bunked up with Leon, and Alfred wondered what the big deal about that was. At least it meant they had some form of authority, if the quartermaster was still here.

He was doing his morning walk around the docks, getting fresh air. As the day before, and most likely the days after Arthur’s return, he had no qualms with early drinking until he was so drunk that he couldn’t think straight about his sorrows anymore. Usually it was fun, because Lukas got slightly tipsy as well, and let’s say his entire demeanour changed when he did. It didn’t stop him from telling scary horror stories, but still.

He wondered if Die Ehrsucht was still docked, however. He knew they were here, had seen Gilbert that night with Ivan. But he couldn’t find their ship, so they were probably docked further into sea. He was immensely glad that he  hadn’t seen Ivan, however. It helped that he was usually never alone at night, having to be dragged back to the tavern by Lukas. Still, finding some of the Beilschmidt crew could be worthwhile – or well, seeing a few friendly faces would be nice, such as Eli.

He sighed and decided to circle the docks once more – perhaps he just didn’t really know what the ship looked like. Walking further and further into the docks, and whistling while looking at the ships intently, he didn’t realize where he was walking and collided with a dark-skinned man all of a sudden.

“ _Qué chingados,_ watch where ye’re going!” The man snapped when he dropped the crate he had been holding. Alfred frowned, mumbling an apology and wanting to continue on without any trouble.

“ _Bastardo inglese!_ ” stopped him in his tracks though, knowing that voice. Turning around, he was met with the small Italian, Lovino if he was correct, walking over to him from a ship. He grimaced as he only just recognized the Scarlet Fiesta between the other ships, wondering how he had not noticed it before. “You are not with your crew, did they abandon you?”

Wow, Lovino wasted no time, did he? Alfred glared at him, shaking his head. “They’re raiding in Cuba. They’ll be back soon.”

Lovino grinned. “You hope! But that means that _testa di cazzo_ is also here, damn it.”

“Now now, Lovino,” Alfred had seen him approaching and had been ready to bolt, but Antonio didn’t seem angry or murderous or whatever, instead smiling jovially as he clasped the smaller Italian on his shoulder. “After what happened with Arthur on sea, he was bound to be slowed down a little. My condolences, by the way.”

Yeah, right.

Alfred shrugged, not quite sure what to do. The last time he had seen Carriedo, he had been punched, so to be making civil conversation was a bit strange. Lovino however, felt right at home, shrugging out of Antonio’s grasp.

“I’m going to see Feliciano,” Lovino said, glaring at Antonio in a way that told him he wasn’t going to be denied this. Alfred perked up, however.

“You know where Die Ehrsucht is?”

Lovino looked at him strangely. “ _Si_ , duh. In sea.”

“I meant the crew. Can I come with?”

 This time, Lovino did look at Antonio, which looked a little weird when it was clear that he was asking permission. Antonio nodded after giving Alfred a thoughtful look. Lovino nodded to Alfred as well and started to walk away, but Antonio stopped him.

“Come now Lovi, _dame un beso_ before you go _!_ ”

Alfred tried not to stare as Lovino cursed loudly, whirling around to the other man and planting his lips on Antonio’s for the briefest of moments. Up until now he had kind of believed their relationship was one-sided, but guess what. Lovino stormed off after that, Alfred deciding to just follow him quickly. They didn’t speak, Alfred walking a bit behind Lovino, but eventually they entered a tavern Alfred hadn’t been before. Downstairs it was quiet, this time of day, but they quickly headed upstairs where he heard the real ruckus begin.

He chuckled at the loud Germans, it almost seemed as if there was a fight with the noise they were making. Once Lovino threw the door open though, silence followed until what had to be Feliciano cheered loudly in Italian and all but swung himself over his brother. Lovino started cursing again, face bright red, but he embraced Feliciano all the same.

The crew didn’t seem to mind them at all, continuing their game of cards heatedly. Alfred felt relief wash over him when he actually did spot Eli, because it hadn’t occurred to him that she could have been elsewhere before. She spotted him just as quickly, pushed herself off the bench and walked over. He kind of spluttered when she actually embraced him in a hug and blushed scarlet when behind her, Roderich was fiercely glaring at them. Eli released him and gave him a warm smile.

“Alfred! I’m glad to see you’re okay. How have you been?”

“Fine, I guess.” He relented, smiling back at her. She tugged him to the table they were sitting earlier, with Roderich and Gilbert on the other side. There was also an Asian looking man at the table, but Alfred couldn’t remember him from before. He couldn’t see Ludwig either, which was strange seeing that Feliciano was here, but oh well.

Seeing him, Gilbert cackled loudly. “Oh man, you were left behind!”

“Christ, they’ll be back.” Alfred groaned. “Why did everyone, except for me, know they were gone anyway?” At Eli’s confused frown, he explained. “Arthur went raiding with the Frenchman.”

“Probably because you- _Mein Gott_ will you catholics lower your voices!” Gilbert suddenly yelled at the enthusiastic Italian duo. Well, Feliciano had been tattering loudly, Lovino just nodding his head.

At this, Feliciano deflated which caused for Lovino to turn around angrily. “Shut up you potato bastard!”

There was a tense silence, wherein Feliciano clutched Lovino’s arm, a warning on his lips, but Gilbert just burst out in laughter at the response. Roderich shook his head and held out a gun for Feliciano. “Just go into town for a bit, if you want to be alone with him.” He said, nodding to Lovino. Feliciano hesitated, so Lovino took the gun for him, before all but dragging his brother out of the room. The volume in the room softened immensely with their departure.

“As I was saying,” Gilbert said as he turned back to the people on the table. “You probably fucked up that night, is all. Or you fucked him? Oh man, your face!” Alfred turned bright red once more, and Gilbert lost it, spilling his mug as he laughed.

Eli, however, glared at Gilbert as well. “ _Verpiss dich,_ Gilbert, you lack such tact. Alfred, I wanted to go see some shops, come.” Before knowing what was really going on, Eli had dragged Alfred out of the bench again and out of the tavern in no time, releasing her hold on him once they reached the streets.

“Thanks.” Alfred muttered eventually, happy to be away from the loud-mouthed German.

“He can be a bit much, _ja?_ You look tense. Did something happen?”

Something about the familiarity between them and the fond look Eli was giving him, made Alfred just collapse. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began the rant of how he was still not really over what happened at open sea with that monster, how anxious he was getting from all these supernatural horror stories, and last but not least how he was getting his knickers in a twist with how Arthur was reacting. Eli didn’t say a word all the time, nodding occasionally.

Once Alfred finally shut up, she smiled at him. “Feels good, doesn’t it.”

“I am so sorry. Here I hardly know you at all and I-“

“Oh please, you already know my biggest secret. Besides, you’ve been looking at Kirkland like crazy ever since before you crossed the sea, so I kind of expected this. I am pleasantly surprised you came to me with it though.”

“It’s not really as if I can talk to anyone about it. Hell, I’m not even sure if I can talk to _you_ about it.”

Eli laughed. “I think that has something to do with my gender, no? It influences you even though you don’t want it to. It’s okay! I’m not offended. Heaven knows I’m only dressed like this so I could stay with Roderich.”

Alfred nodded, mulling over that perhaps Eli being a she actually did influence his train of thought. All he knew were male pirates after all, and they definitely did not talk about their feelings. Hell, Mathias talked about his feelings, but those feelings detailed his sex-life only and well, Alfred wasn’t really into hearing every detail of Mathias adventures.

“So are you going to settle with him in New England, still?”

“Yes, we’ve already gone through it over and over, and Gilbert is fine with it. Well, not really, but I won’t let him stop me.” She laughed. “And the sorrow over your encounter with the Kraken will fade, believe me. I can’t really help with Arthur though. Your best shot at understanding the man is probably through Francis.”

“What?” Oh _hell_ no, Alfred was definitely not going to the Frenchman for help. He felt embarrassed enough that he had just spilled all his conflicts to Eli! He just hoped she would keep them to herself. He was horrified at the idea of the other captain also knowing.

“Terrible idea, yes, but he’s closest with Arthur.” Alfred got a nasty taste in his mouth by remembering how close they actually were. And now they were raiding together, _great_. “By the look on your face I think you know how close, but that phase is over. I think.”

Alfred grumbled about not wanting to continue on the subject, and they changed their conversation to idle chit-chat, browsing several shops for the hell of it. Eli seemed as if she were actually looking for things, purchasing some random stuff here and there, and Alfred was content to just watch and browse a little. He figured he was going to have to buy a new shirt soon. He had wanted to send money home first, but Eli told him that he should have Arthur take care of that, since none of the post-offices in this town were reliable.

Spending the rest of the day with someone way more civilized than some of his own crew members was a nice change of the drinking he did the day before, and he went back to his tavern and to his bed with a lighter heart that night. Lukas hadn’t returned yet, but they both had keys so he promptly turned around and tried to get some sleep.

Three more days passed like that, either filled with drinking with his mates or wandering the town with the German pirate. He had even played cards with their crew and Lovino, whom he noticed was actually a good man, humorous and civil to be with once he warmed up to you. Sure, Alfred was still cursed at a lot, especially over the fact that he was Kirkland’s and English, but at the end of the second evening of drinking together Lovino had jovially thrown his arm over Alfred while belting out an Italian song whilst drunk.

He knew that his own ship had returned by the sudden chaos on the docks, and for a second he was afraid that Arthur had already managed to collide with Antonio. Fortunately, as he reached the centre of the ruckus, he saw Arthur standing with only a neutral expression while Francis was cheering, arm slung around Arthur’s shoulders and going off about something in French. Merchants were surrounding the two crews, and Alfred was rather impressed with all the chests and crates that had been carried of the ships. Apparently the raid had been very successful.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he laughed as Mathias was covered in very female-like jewellery, which he was currently trying to shower over Lukas. Lukas did not look very impressed though, hitting the other over the head every time Mathias tried something. It escalated when Mathias grabbed the other, dipped him down to the ground and gave him a messy kiss in front of anyone. Right there and then was confirmed that Lukas could feel things other than sarcasm, as he blushed a bright scarlet and kicked Mathias harshly in the balls before retreating to the ship, Mathias following with a limp in his walk.

Starting to feel as giddy as the rest of the crew because of their antics and laughter, Alfred shook his head before connecting his gaze with his captain. Arthur’s eyes bore a hole into him, and he had to resist the urge to run. Instead, he raised his arm and waved lamely at him. Arthur gave no response, instead turning to the many merchants around them again, shrugging Francis’ arm off of him.

“Alfred!” He turned around to see James walking over to him, carrying a things in his arms. Nodding over the other he waited until James had approached him before congratulating him on the good raid. “Shame you didn’t join us.”

Resisting the urge to claim that he hadn’t been invited, Alfred shrugged. “James did give him an odd look but shrugged, handing him a rather fancy looking flintlock pistol.

“Here, I remember you complaining about your gun blocking.” Raising his eyebrows at the sudden gift, wondering if this was some kind of joke, he raised the gun up a little and inspected it.  “Course you need to buy new gunpowder for this one, but it has more kick than your old one.”

Looking around, he noticed that the new matchlocks and other weapons were loaded onto the ship instead of being sold, and that was kind of smart. He turned back to James, sheathing the pistol in his belt next to his old one. “Thanks, man!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

James was right though, during one of their practices when they were still at sea he had complained about his gun blocking time after time, though fortunately it had not done so yet in dangerous situations.

Ralph joined the men and slapped Alfred on the back harshly, laughing jovially. “Ah man, you should’ve been there! After bombarding the town it was pretty much abandoned, and there was so much stuff for the taking! I could get used to Cuba. Remember that time when we just _stumbled_ upon that Spanish treasure, unguarded, on the Bahamas? Good times.” James nodded and the duo left again, bragging on about their supposed conquests and raids.

He decided on going on the ship and down below decks to store the blocking pistol, he could decide what to do with it later. Also, he was slightly curious about the state of the ship and if it had been damaged at all. He got stuck hanging around with Reggie and some other gunners, drinking some rum as they told him about the island they went to. He was talked into getting some more rum from the supply room, rolling his eyes as he did.

There had been no damage to the ship, fortunately, no cannon had been fired at them. The same was for La Liberté, as it seemed that the fortress they attacked was extremely unguarded at the moment because of some national holiday or something.

Entering the galley so that he could reach the supply room, he froze when he noticed Arthur sitting on top of one of the tables, paging through a book of some sorts. There was no one else around, so when the door had opened and Alfred had let himself in, he had looked up with a frown, eyes locking on the taller man.

What was Alfred supposed to be doing, again? Perhaps he could just turn around and leave again.

“Jones.” Arthur greeted, standing up from the table and dusting off his coat. He beckoned the other to come closer, and Alfred did so feeling much like an obedient dog. Once closer, Arthur held out the book he had in his hands for Alfred. “Here.”

“Sir?” He took the book regardless. It was light and small, but looked like it was ancient and as if one wrong movement might have the pages falling out.

“Are you familiar with Leonardo da Vinci?” Arthur asked, nodding over to the book. At Alfred’s lost look, Arthur got his answer. “I thought as much. He died two centuries years ago, after all. He was an Italian polymath. Or a man of many talents. Architecture, math, astronomy, you name it.”

He closed the distance between them some more to take the book back from Alfred’s hands and opened it to a page with some drawings on it. “He was also an inventor, you see. Most of his inventions were treated with ridicule by his superiors, but they were by no means ridiculous.”

Tearing his eyes away from Arthur’s face and his amazing eyes, Alfred looked down to where Arthur was pointing on the page. It was a drawing of some machine of sorts, two giant wings it seemed. “This here was one of his inventions. He called it a flying machine, if I’m correct.”

The language was Italian and therefore Alfred hadn’t a clue about what was written, but he could grasp the basic idea because of the drawings. There was a huge plank in the middle of the two wings where a little man was drawn, lying face down and his arms attached to the huge wings. It looked magnificent, as if the man were imitating a bird.

“This experiment failed, of course, because a man is much too heavy to get himself off ground like this, as he had later described. But… well, you dream of flying, don’t you? I thought you might like it.” The last sentence sounded awfully vulnerable, and Alfred had to do a double take at that. His fingers, which had been caressing the images carefully froze, and he snapped his head back up to Arthur.

Arthur was looking away from him and the book, to the side of the galley with a stoic expression on his face. Screw the gift from James, this was much, _much_ better. And probably with a whole other meaning behind it to.

Wait, that reminded him.

“Why wasn’t I notified of this raid?” He said, feeling as if he said it a bit angrier than he had intended it for. He realized it was the wrong thing to say as Arthur fixed him with a cold glare, so he quickly added “Thank you for the gift. It’s amazing.”

“Perhaps it could help you learn Italian.” Arthur said briskly, not answering the first question. Alfred wasn’t having it.

“But why wasn’t I? I could’ve come along.”

Arthur raised his bushy eyebrows again, glare a little less cold after Alfred expressed his gratitude but still in place. “With how you reacted on your latest raid, I-“

“That’s bullshit, I did fine.” Alfred was _not_ in the mood to be insulted. He knew that interrupting his captain whilst the other was already irritated was a dangerous move, but damn it, so was he.

The other man snarled at him, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. Devoid of his hat and coat, both situated on the table behind him, Arthur also looked less intimidating, so perhaps that was also why Alfred felt a bit more forward than usual.

“Damn it Jones, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? I expected you to stop being a wanker.”

“Wait, what? What I wanted? What did I- what are you talking about?” Confusion washed over him as Arthur glared at him still, gesturing one hand to his own body as explanation. “ _What?!_ You thought I- just because we- that doesn’t mean-“

“Stop stammering like a child.” Arthur said, apparently fed up with the other. He turned around to gather his coat and hat and leave the galley, but Alfred grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving. “What is it now?”

“I- It wasn’t like that.” Alfred ground out, his hand still firmly encircling the other man’s wrist. He used a bit more force than necessary, hoping the other man wouldn’t just shake him off and leave anyway. “It wasn’t just a-“

Arthur let out a mirthful chuckle, staring at the other. “What, you mean to say it meant something? Don’t be such a woman, Alfred. You wanted your fill, I found you attractive, and that’s that.”

As if on cue, the door swung open. “ _Sourcils, mon chèr_ , we should go to the tavern! Drinks are on _moi_.” Alfred released Arthur as if he had touched fire, turning around to glare at the French captain. Arthur huffed and collected his coat and hat in record time, pulling them on.

“Prepare to be bankrupt, then.” Arthur muttered, shoving past Alfred roughly and dragging Francis out of the galley. Francis looked rather confused and amused by what he had witnessed, Alfred’s eyes following the two of them until the door closed again.

Angry and slightly mortified by what just happened, Alfred clutched the book in his hand tighter, free hand punching the table next to him harsh enough that he felt it splinter slightly under his knuckles. Regretting that as he nurtured his now bruised fist, he muttered his exact thoughts about annoying brits.

Forgetting about why he initially came to the galley, he stuffed the book into his shirt for safekeeping and left for the upper deck again. He all but collided into Mathias there, who was jovially singing a song, going something like _shiver my timbers, shiver my soul, yo ho he ho,_ but one look at Alfred’s face had him shutting up.

“Dude, you look as if someone murdered your puppy.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Mathias nodded, took the apparently last swig of his bottle before tossing it somewhere behind him. He grabbed Alfred’s arm and dragged him off the ship. “I have just the cure for that!” he explained, manoeuvring Alfred into town. “Normally I would propose some good old wrestling, but I’m way too wasted to stand a chance.” He went off, muttering some more about whatever before they reached their destination.

Alfred gaped as Mathias proudly pointed at the building they were in front of. Alfred knew exactly what it was – one of the more luxurious brothels of the town.

 “You have got to be kidding me?”

Mathias laughed. “It’s for you, not me. Lukas would have my balls! And not in a good way. But man, I totally know what happened. I mean, why were you not at the raid?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Exactly. And what reason does Kirkland have for not telling you? _Hmmm_.” He all but shoved the other man inside of the brothel. “My treat.”

Alfred wanted to turn around and promptly leave, but was held back rather strongly by Mathias, who forced him to enter the building further and further. Eventually Alfred punched him in the gut, hoping that would do the trick. It didn’t, but at least Mathias stopped his rants for a moment to look  at him.

“Look, I’m not sexually frustrated.”

“I know.” Mathias laughed. “But it might get your mind off our dear captain. And it might piss him off.”

The latter did enough for Alfred. He mulled it over. Perhaps Arthur was right, after all. And if he, with the coaxing of the loudmouthed Dane next to him, chose a girl that had blonde hair and green eyes, well, that had nothing to do with anything.

They’ve been at Port Royal for a little more than a week, perhaps ten days, now. Alfred was surprised to say that he was getting fed up with being docked on land, with nowhere to go. He was anxious to continue sailing to new places or to just be on sea, and the town was getting tiring.

There were few advantages here and there. He had formed an alliance with Eli through their mutual interests. He apparently also formed a rivalry with the, apparently Cuban, dark-skinned man he had bumped into – because of the collision, his crate had fallen down, and according to Lovino he had been carrying valuable, fragile objects. Antonio had the man demoted to swabbie, and every time Alfred ran into the man they ended up in a fistfight. Which he also tired off.

He shaped a careful companionship with the angry Italian from the Scarlet Fiesta, mainly because during one night of poker with the Beilschmidt crew and himself, Arthur and James, Alfred had been paging through the book he was gifted and Lovino had seen. Lovino had then gotten into a rant over Leonardo da Vinci and later Michelangelo and some chapel (Alfred had no clue), before snatching the book from him and asking if Alfred was even able to read anything.

Alfred had of course not lied about his inability to read Italian, and Lovino had promptly taken him to another table and taught him some of the basics so that he could read the book better. Though Lovino claimed it was only to culturally educate the ‘barbaric ape of an Englishman’, he seemed to enjoy diving in the history and culture of his own country.

They had not bumped into any other trouble, mainly with Ivan, after that. Alfred had seen the man or one of his sisters around town, but they never interacted, fortunately. The only trouble that sometimes occurred was when Arthur was hanging out with one of the other captains and Carriedo appeared as well, the atmosphere always tensing. Usually Arthur left, or Antonio made himself sparse, but more often than not they just glared at each other from their respective sides of the table.

Alfred wasn’t really interacting with Arthur much at the moment. After that one, completely impulsive night at the brothel which, to be honest, had been far from amazing and more traumatizing if anything, he had been too embarrassed to approach Arthur about the subject again.

He did stare at him a lot, feeling that he was allowed that much. Arthur had noticed for sure, as they sometimes were still caught in an intense staring match wherein Arthur gave him the same challenging, burning looks as he usually did.

Mathias had softened up on him after he all but forced him on one of the whores in the brothel, seeing as there was actually no change at all in Alfred’s behaviour. He eventually even sat Alfred down and offered to be a listening ear to his drama, to which Alfred refused, because he didn’t need to go around and gossip like a couple of women and fuel his embarrassment even further.

It helped that he immersed himself into reading the book with Lovino, sparring with James and drinking with Mathias. Next to his usual duties he had no free time left, and his mind was busy enough with what he should be doing instead of what he wished he was doing. Still, he couldn’t get Arthur out of his mind, and he figured he was just going to have to settle with it.

So when he heaved another low breath, looking over at the table where Arthur was arguing with Francis and trading insults with Antonio while Gilbert was laughing away, Lovino smacked him on his head with the book. Alfred yelped, staring back at the smaller man with wide eyes.

“ _Sei disgustoso._ Stop being so obvious.”

“I am not, shut the fuck up.” He growled back, easily understanding the Italian curses. Because his teacher _was_ Lovino, so the first few things he had of course learned fluently were the curses.

Lovino gave him a wide grin. “I thought Feliciano had it bad for his German potato-fucker, but you’re even worse. Why is everyone I meet a homosexual, _mio dio.”_

“You’re no better.” Alfred accused. “Besides, I’m not.”

“Yeah, and I’m _una sirena_.” He was about to continue his insults, when Antonio abruptly stood up, said something in Spanish with an angry face, and left the tavern. Before he did however, he gave Lovino a dark look and gestured for him to come with. Lovino sighed and called him something with tomatoes, before following without another word.

Arthur was darkly muttering to Gilbert about what Alfred thought was the Spaniard and their earlier conversation, to which Francis and Gilbert were just shrugging and grinning. In the corner he saw the Asian man from the Beilschmidt earlier, whom he learned was called Kiku, sitting with Laurence, chatting away about something. Well, he was oddly silent as usual, but Laurence was doing enough of the conversing.

He was _fairly_ sure about Laurence by now. Especially since Laurence suddenly spent a lot of time with Eli, ever since they met.

Sighing and burying his face in his hands, Alfred briefly went over the Italian words he just learned from the book and their meaning, trying to memorize them. He was getting the hand of this, and Lovino had even loudly announced he might as well be learning Spanish after this, but the look Arthur had send their table was by no means friendly so Alfred had politely declined.

He tried to unsuspiciously listen in on the conversation at the table with the three captains, but was amazed when it was actually a mixture of English, German and French. It wasn’t as if each captain was only speaking their own language either, Arthur switching between the three languages as easily and fluently as the other two did. He wondered if they always did that when discussing things or if it was purely because they were joined by other members of their crew, because he had never noticed it before.

It sounded hilarious though, and Alfred allowed to enjoy the different sounds and vowels that each language had before shoving the book back into his pocket and standing up to leave. It was getting late, and he wanted to catch some shut-eye before he had shift that night.

He said so much to Arthur when the latter gave him a look that clearly wanted to know where Alfred was planning on going. Despite their fallout in the galley earlier and the awkward atmosphere that Alfred felt between them ever since, he couldn’t deny that Arthur was acting pretty much as normal as ever. He seemed more concerned though, whenever Alfred was going out alone, and when Alfred had snapped about it Arthur had calmly explained himself by wanting to be sure that his crew wasn’t going to be ambushed by navy laggards here and there or by Ivan.

Which kind of made sense, so Alfred had slinked back and nodded obediently while waiting for another of the crew to come along with him that time.

Instead of ordering he can’t go out alone, this time Arthur stood up from the table himself, bidding goodbye to his fellow captains and following Alfred out of the building and into the streets. Despite it being midnight, it was still quite bustling with life, though merchants had disappeared and more pirates and sailors have taken their places.

There was a silence as they wove through the streets back to the docks, Alfred feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. He knew Arthur was probably annoyed with how Alfred looked at things that happened between them, but if he could at least just loosen up so that they could resume their friendly banter, that would be great. Mulling over things he could say to start conversation, Arthur beat him to it.

“Your Italian is coming along nicely.”

“I guess. It’s not as if I need it for where we’re going, though.”

Arthur nodded at that, lips pursing a little. _Stop looking at his face so much._

“I suppose you would do better to learn Spanish after all. The entire world seems fixed on either speaking that or English.” Arthur said the word Spanish with contempt, but there was honesty as well. “And French, perhaps a bit of Dutch.”

“Let’s not get too enthusiastic here.” Alfred laughed, tension bleeding out of him a little. “I can barely hold a proper English conversation without vomiting over my words.” Arthur offered him a small smile, and Alfred lightened up slightly. That at least had to mean something, that some of their awkwardness was gone.

“What has James been teaching you, by the way? I know he has kind of taken you as an apprentice, without my permission.” Alfred didn’t know James had to get permission for it, but Arthur didn’t seem very annoyed.

“Eh, basic things. We spar mostly, and he taught me some of the constellations and how to navigate them as well. But mostly practical information on how to handle the ship, rigging, cordage, colours, anchors. That kind of stuff."

“How coincidental.” Arthur mused, softly under his breath. Alfred wondered if he was supposed to hear it or not, so he decided that if he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to ask for a clarification. They reached the ship, and before boarding it Arthur stopped, standing still whilst looking at his ship. “You’ve been taught as if you were to take the position of boatswain.” He eventually explained.

Positions on their ship were still a strange thing. While, like on other pirate ships, Arthur was actually elected democratically by the crew after the old captain died, Arthur also maintained the position of navigator or sailor master. And, despite being chosen democratically, had absolute authority. They had no master carpenter, instead the ones they had just cooperated. Their boatswain had acted as a master rigger up until now, but even Alfred could see that he wasn’t the best at rigging.

Alfred laughed. “No way, we have Neal. I can’t even take that much responsibility, I think.”

“We can start slow, for we lack a master rigger. Neal is making plans to return to Nova Zeelandia after we return to England. I need to invest in a new boatswain. Or were you planning on leaving in New England, still?”

Alfred would bet all the money he had on him – which was still a lot, though not literally on him at the moment – that there was hesitation in Arthur’s question. Arthur wasn’t looking at him though, so Alfred couldn’t really see his expression, but he was dead sure of it.

“I thought I made it clear I was staying.” Alfred said firmly. He wanted to laugh at the way Arthur’s shoulders relaxed a tiny little bit, but his resolve about having to settle with whatever they had was crumbling. Arthur sure as hell wasn’t acting the way he wanted to, he guessed.

“The crew is already notified, but we won’t set sail for a few days.”

Acting on instinct rather than brains, Alfred decided to test his theory. He reached out and gently caressed is hand across the other man’s elbow, soft but firm enough to be noticeable. Arthur tensed and turned to look at him, green eyes still bright no matter how dark the night around them was.

“I thought you got this out of your system at the brothel.” Arthur said eventually, not pulling away to Alfred’s delight. Alfred made a face at that, realizing that Arthur probably had people everywhere and knew everything. It proved the same back when he sent a letter back home. Feeling daring, Alfred took a step closer so that Arthur had to look up to him if he wanted to fix him with his glares.

“Not quite.” Alfred replied, lowering his voice in what he hoped was sultry. He was probably just making a big fool of himself. However, as his hand again caressed the other man’s arm, Arthur still wasn’t pulling away.

“You are treading in dangerous waters.”

“I thought that was kinda my thing.”

“I could have you keelhauled.” Internally wincing at that horrible way of torment – seriously, how twisted were people to consider attaching someone to the rope that scrapes the barnacles off the ship’s keel, so that they would be dragged along the razor sharp barnacles from one side of the ship to the other?

Wondering how far he could go, he leant in a little more, almost resting his own forehead against Arthur’s. Arthur’s hat was shoved back by the motion, dangling of his head. He reached around to grab it gingerly, Arthur rolling his eyes and raising his head slightly so that their lips met. Alfred felt as if he melted, but Arthur was letting him take the lead here, and he was definitely going to, feeling giddy as he grabbed around Arthur’s waist with his other arm. Arthur’s hands didn’t move from their side, but he responded leisurely, and that was enough.

Their remaining days past much more pleasantly. While Arthur still kept his distance, they were back to their familiar bickering and joking, and Alfred thanked the heavens for it. He managed to get Arthur to take care of sending some of Alfred’s money back to England and his family, and Arthur more often than not sat at his table in the tavern or in the galley if he had free time.

Usually they went over things Arthur wanted Alfred to know – some more practical information about rigging and being in command of a few people. He even practiced his Italian with him, since Lovino had been absent for the past few days. Arthur admitted that was probably his fault, since he and Antonio had that fallout a few days prior.

“What was that about, anyway?”

“It really is none of your business.” Arthur said with a glare, finishing the meal in front of him and shoving the plate away. It didn’t take very long for a barmaid to sweep by and pick up their plates, replacing it with drinks. “Now that we are sure of Ivan’s presence – Francis and I thought it best to leave the harbour at the same time. We don’t know how many of his ships are here, and I rather leave the area unscathed.”

“That’s seems reasonable.”

“But the Spanish dog felt much too superior for a move like that. I suspect he is too proud to admit he needs more time to build a crew, since he lost so many of his men at sea.”

“And Captain Beilschmidt?”

“He’ll probably go along, but I never know with them.” Arthur said, swirling his drink in his hand a little. It wasn’t rum, but mead, but Alfred liked the taste all the same. Everything was usually better than the grog they were used to on the ships, he felt. “Speaking of which, I need to go see him. I’ll see you at the ship.”

They said their goodbyes, and as Arthur left Alfred went to search for other crewmembers to hang out with. He couldn’t find most of them, odd enough. Eventually he joined three or four of his crew by the docks, the men lounging about in front of the Emerald Dragon. They planned to head out the day or the day after that, so some of them were slowly getting kicked back into gear to do their jobs.

He played a few rounds of cards along with them when he was suddenly approached by a concerned Eli. Frowning at her, he stood up and walked away from the group.

“Can you please go and see if Feliciano is with Lovino at the Scarlet Fiesta?” She asked. “I need to go, or I’d do it myself.”

“Why, is something wrong?” He asked, feeling a small surge of protectiveness for his friend. If this had something to do with Ivan after all, he wasn’t about to let her go and leave by herself.

“No, it’s nothing, we are just getting ready to leave tomorrow. Please could go find him and tell him to come to the ship?”

Well, he didn’t have anything better to do. He shrugged. “Okay. Are you sure everything’s okay? You look tense.”

“Rough couple of days.” Eli said with a half-hearted smile. “Thank you for this, but I need to go! See you.” She darted off, and Alfred sighed. He turned to where he knew the Scarlet Fiesta was docked, deciding he might as well get it over with. He hoped he wasn’t going to be gutted either – despite being on amicable terms with Lovino, Arthur _did_ have a fallout with the Spaniard last time they met.

It didn’t take him very long to reach the other ship. The docks weren’t very busy this time of day, the sun slowly setting. Most people were having dinner or closing up shop, the night life soon beginning afterwards.

He wasn’t going to board the ship though, under no circumstances. He didn’t want any trouble with the Spaniards, especially not now the Emerald Dragon was more likely to leave earlier than them, since they had to round up some new crewmembers after their supposed attack on sea. That probably meant that Arthur had been right about his earlier plan to leave docks together with other captains, too.

He spotted the Italian duo near the ship on the docks, chatting away. Well, as usual Feliciano was obviously doing all the chatting, Lovino looking a little exasperated but also happier than usual. Antonio was nearby them as well, so Alfred tried his best to ignore the Spaniard and walked straight over to the Italians. Feliciano greeted him with a bright smile, as usual, while Lovino only scowled at him and asked him what he wanted.

“Eli wants you to return to your ship.” Alfred said as explanation, understanding dawning on Feliciano’s face.

“ _Si, grazie!_ ”

Job done, Alfred left the Italian brothers to say their goodbyes and turned around to head back to the Emerald Dragon. He didn’t really understand why Eli couldn’t just do this herself, it was hardly any trouble.

He was only a few feet further when he noticed that the Emerald Dragon, or rather it’s crew, had actually come to him. The dock they were standing on was suddenly flooded by members of his own crew, dwarfing the halved crew of Carriedo.

Said captain had only just noticed it for himself, raising his eyebrows at the sudden presence of the Kirkland crew, though his surprise was clouded by anger as well. Alfred almost groaned at the idea of a fight breaking out.

Wondering what the hell was up, he stayed and wandered over to where Mathias was standing. Lukas was nowhere to be seen, but Mathias was grimacing, looking almost pained to be here. Spotting Alfred, he sighed. “Alfred, you should probably-“

“So,” A voice suddenly boomed. Alfred turned around to see Arthur walking over from his crew to where Carriedo was standing. “Someone told on you.” He continued, cockily. Arthur wore a wicked grin which kind of made Alfred uncomfortable, but fascinated nonetheless. Apparently it had the same effect on Carriedo, who spat out a _Que?_ with annoyance. Behind him, Lovino swore, looking very distraught all of a sudden. Feliciano took hold of Lovino’s arm, whispering something to him.

He noticed most of his own crew was armed, even Mathias nurturing his flintlock pistol tensely. Carriedo’s crew slowly began to take notice too, taking up arms themselves. With a flick of Arthur’s wrist however, his own crew stormed the other’s crew, much to Alfred’s surprise. Antonio didn’t flinch or move one inch, Lovino stomping and shouting as he was dragged away from his captain and held back by two men. Feliciano stood still, awkwardly, before walking over to where Lovino was being held and demanding he be released.

Arthur tutted and circled Antonio, who followed him with his eyes angrily.

“What on earth are you on about, Kirkland? I thought we tired of fighting.”

“As did I. How _does_ the navy call on the Kraken, anyway?” Lovino’s cursing stopped abruptly, his eyes growing wide instead. Antonio visibly forced himself to relax. “Seems like a rather good trick. You can imagine the second-hand embarrassment I felt when I heard you didn’t figure that one out for yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I tried.”

“Instead you tipped them off on where I would be on open sea. I wasn’t even aware you negotiated with the navy.”

Antonio cracked a lopsided grin, shrugging. “A man does what a man does if he wants to survive, _mi amigo_.”

“As they should,” Arthur agreed, standing still to Antonio’s side.

“You play as dirty as me, no?”

“It would not have mattered if your crew was complete or not. That you yourself got attacked by your ‘ _amigos’_ is of no concern to me. You could have known they backstab as easily as pirates do.”

“I try to stay optimistic.”

Alfred was rather amazed at the somewhat civil conversation the two were having. He had trouble breathing himself - if what Arthur said was true, if Antonio tipped of the navy, and if the navy knew how to lure the kraken out then that was some heavy stuff. Alfred wasn’t sure whether to be amazed by the navy’s party trick, or horrified that Antonio was the cause for all the grief. Looking at Lovino and Feliciano, Alfred wasn’t sure whether or not Lovino had known. His face betrayed his own amazement and horror, and his fear.

“Your little stunt, however,” Arthur continued, turning to Antonio again. He leant in and grabbed Antonio’s gun out of his belt. Antonio didn’t make any move to stop him, eyeing the people around him. Alfred hadn’t really seen it before, but Arthur’s crew was pretty big. He noticed not even everyone was here, since some people obviously had to guard the ship. And now that Antonio’s own crew was halved, it seemed gigantic.

Arthur looked at the gun gingerly, sliding his gloved fingers across the barrel in a kind of twistingly fascinating way. “It cost me some good people.” With a sting, Tino’s face flashed before Alfred’s eyes, and he felt furious for a moment. He noticed Mathias next to him tense up, his grimace worsening. He was obviously angry as well, though something in him was hesitating as well.

“ _Lo que se siembra_ ,” Arthur waited, looking at Antonio expectantly.

Antonio scowled in return, sagging his shoulders a little. Alfred wondered if Arthur was going to kill him. “ _Es_ _l_ _o que se cosecha_. _Si_.” Antonio seemed to think the same as Alfred, and when Arthur held up the gun to aim it between Antonio’s eyes, everyone seemed to hold their breaths.

Mathias muttered something under his breath, and Alfred almost wanted to go over there and stop Arthur. He knew that what Antonio did was horrible – and he was absolutely furious – but somewhere Alfred knew that Arthur wouldn’t shoot him, right? They might have been rivals, but as far as he knew and heard they didn’t actually hate each other that much.

Though if Antonio had actually send something as lethal as the Kraken Arthur’s way… what other incentive could Antonio have had, if not for killing everyone on the Emerald Dragon?

“So if you take something from me,” Arthur drawled, grin still on place. “I am going to take something from you.”

In the span of a few seconds, everything happened a little too fast for Alfred. Firstly, Arthur moved his arm, instead aiming at something to the duo’s right. Following with his eyes, Alfred saw the two men who were holding Lovino releasing him and walking away swiftly, and Arthur took aim.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Antonio leap into action. “Arthur, no, not him, _lo siento, por favour-“_

Arthur grinned down at Antonio, and aimed a bit more to the right again. His arm shook a little when he fired. Alfred watched in horror as the gun – heavier and stronger than the guns he had seen before – shot a hole right where Feliciano’s forehead used to be. Blood splattered on the ground behind him, on Lovino’s face and on the shirts of people nearby them. Feliciano’s body wobbled for a moment before dropping down like a sack of potatoes.

He was vaguely aware of Lovino screaming and other people slowly clearing out again. Arthur’s crew walked away from the bloody mess on the ground.

Arthur roughly punched Antonio in the head with the butt of his own pistol, firing again near Antonio’s head. The sound must have deafened the other for the moment Alfred knew, as he watched Antonio clutch his ears with a gasp. Arthur threw the gun into the ocean nearby them with a powerful swing.

Antonio’s crew wasn’t doing anything, still under the watchful eye of the remaining men of Arthur’s own crew, and well, basically nobody of their own had been hurt.

Arthur wiped his hand on his coat and turned around, walking away without sparing the others another glance.

Alfred however, watched, horrified, as Lovino had sunken to his knees and all but crawled over to where Feliciano’s body was lying in the dirt. Behind him, Alfred had a good view of the blood and whatnot decorating the ground, and he felt sick to his stomach. He heard Lovino cry out desperately, chanting in Italian as he cradled the incomplete head of the boy Alfred was supposed to fetch, and he had to turn around.

Vomiting until he felt as if his insides were going to come out, tears clouded his vision for a moment. He had seen Arthur and others kill people before, but never this gruesome and never with such impact.

This had been _Feliciano._ He hadn’t personally known him, but he was innocent and bubbly and _this was not right._

He felt drugged as Mathias muttered at him and dragged him up and away from the scene, following Arthur.

He avoided everyone that night, hiding in the crow’s nest as he was haunted by Lovino’s cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sei disgustoso – you are disgusting  
> Una sirena – a mermaid  
> Lo que siembras es lo que cosechas = equivalent to what goes around comes around, or you reap what you sow or something.
> 
> Nova Zeelandia – Abel Tasman sighted New Zealand in 1642, dubbing it Staten Landt. Later it was dubbed Nova Zeelandia after the Dutch province of Zeeland. James Cook anglicised the name to New Zeeland, but that was way after 1730, so it’s still Nova Zeelandia in this story (1711).


	15. Chapter 15

All preparations were made, and they were to leave the docks that evening. Wanting the advantage of darkness, Arthur and Francis had apparently decided to leave at night. Gilbert had decided not to come, and the reason was pretty clear.

Alfred, not being able to forget what happened, had stumbled into a tavern with the prospect of getting drunk out of his mind. Perhaps that would help with the disgust, horror, and weirdly enough amazement.

The moment he entered a calm looking tavern – he was avoiding his crew as well, so to speak – he was instead met with a hard object to the face. Grounded because of the shock, Alfred was alarmed when he opened his eyes and met the barrel of a gun instead of a drunkard.

Behind the barrel stood a blonde man – he looked familiar.

And now that he was angrily yelling in German, while also being yelled at in German, he realized that this was Ludwig, Gilbert’s brother. And Feliciano’s… friend, at least.

Well, he was going to die. This was it.

Instead Gilbert grabbed Ludwig’s gun from his hand forcibly, pushing the man away from Alfred. “ _Mein Gott_ , Lud, have you lost it?” Another German verbal thrashing followed. Alfred helped himself up, noticing only Eli was here as well. She looked at him sadly.

“I’m sorry Jones, perhaps you better leave.”

“Yeah, no, definitely.” He said, nodding back towards the door. “I’ll be going. I am, eh,” He wanted to say he was sorry, but the murderous look Ludwig sent his way made him reconsider.

“ _Nein_. I am leaving.” Ludwig said, and it was perhaps the most Alfred had ever heard him speak in English. He froze but the blonde brushed past him and his brother, closing the tavern door with a loud slam. Gilbert cursed as he sat back down with Eli, holding his head between his hands.

“Join us, Alfred?” Eli then said, much to his surprise. He wondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea to just leave, but then realized Ludwig might very well be lurking outside. Deciding he did not want to enter a fist fight – or worse – he slowly eased himself into the bench opposite of the Germans. “Are you okay?”

“I think?” He replied intelligently, frowning at the two people in front of him. Realizing she must have meant the bruise forming on Alfred’s cheek, he rubbed at it. Ludwig had apparently hit him with his gun, come to think of it. It hurt, but it distracted him from the hollow ache in his chest. “It’s fine.”

“Fucking idiot,” Gilbert muttered. “He should know better than to mess with what’s Kirkland’s.”

Okay, what? He hated being named Kirkland’s, he was his own man thank you very much. He was about to complain about it, but stopped when he realized that would be kind of insensitive. He didn’t know if the German had cared for Feliciano, but his little brother had definitely did. And Eli too, probably.

“Did you know?” He asked, turning his focus back to Eli. There had been something strange about how she had come to him the night before, after all.

Grimacing slightly, she nodded. “Kirkland was here yesterday… and Roderich slipped up about Antonio’s secret.”

“You mean you guys knew? What the hell!” Sorrow was replaced with anger, at their betrayal. He knew pirates were dirty, but this was kind of extreme wasn’t it? Though he supposed they were just keeping the peace. He wouldn’t have known what to do with the information if he were them, he knew.

“Why did you think he shot Feliciano, huh?” Gilbert sneered. “Not only to get back at Antonio, no. Getting back at me too. God, Ludwig is going to be pain in the ass from now on.”

“I thought that if you would go and fetch Feliciano, Arthur would at least leave him be.” Eli continued sadly. And perhaps that might have been true, but Alfred had left the duo as soon as he had delivered his message. Had he been with them or had he even walked with Feliciano, perhaps nothing would have happened. Or perhaps Lovino would be dead instead.

“But I forgot that no one fucks with old Artie.” Gilbert spat, face still stuck in a sneer. “Fucking limey bastard. To even think I started to think of him as a friend. Rotten pirates, we are. It’s like Singapore all over again.”

Despite the foul mood and the tenseness, Alfred couldn’t help but frown at Eli until she explained. “During a raid in Asia, things went downhill with the navy, and we had to flee. Arthur was still fighting, however. Later in Singapore, Arthur had half of our crew decimated, since he had lost half of his own.”

“What goes around fucking comes around.” Gilbert agreed, downing his mug of ale in record time. “He can handle the Ruski alone for all that I care. Francis will do whatever he’s told anyway, the pansy.”

“Don’t be like that,” Eli scolded, albeit not sternly. “He has helped more times than you can count, too.”

“Don’t fucking talk this good Eli, I don’t need to hear it. Especially not from you, you don’t have to deal with Lud.”

Sensing the argument coming up, Alfred slid out the bench again. He wanted to be somewhere else, and he wanted it immediately. They seemed to understand though, not giving him another second of thought as he said his goodbyes and left the tavern. Thankfully no blonde German was waiting for him, and he swiftly made his way through the streets of the town.

He felt angry. What Gilbert said was right, however. They _were_ a bunch of rotten pirates, even though Alfred often romanticized his captain. And what Antonio had done as a particularly shit-move. Keeping it from Arthur was also a mistake on Gilbert’s part. He knew _why_ Gilbert didn’t want Arthur to know, of course. But that didn’t mean that Arthur knew.

Alfred could understand that to Arthur, this was proof that they were under cahoots or something. A statement only proven further now that they won’t be helping with the Russian.

So yes, he was angry. He was furious even, especially at Arthur. It reminded him of the incident way before the Kraken, when Arthur had been close to shooting a little kid who had been accused of theft. Had Arthur gone through with it then, Alfred was sure he would have felt the same as he did now.

It was Lovino that had a potty mouth, and it was Lovino that Alfred could see kill other people or steal. But Feliciano had only ever been a chatty little brunette, basking in the attention of his supposed lover. Feliciano, who had been so happy to see Lovino a few days before, Italian ranting filling the taverns. How could _anyone_ want to do a kid like that harm?

And he hadn’t even _known_ the kid, shit.

He cursed, using Italian to cuss Arthur out to no one in particular. A few people passing by gave him odd looks, but he used Italian for a reason. He laughed bitterly – no way he would ever still be on friendly terms with Lovino. The boy was more likely to shoot him on sight, and who could blame him?

Alfred was under no illusion though – intervening would have probably resulted in himself getting crippled or shot. Or as he had thought before, the death of Lovino. And the rest of the crew had been very ardent on following their captain’s orders, loyal dogs as they were. Were they all just heartless, or stupid? Or perhaps they just trusted Arthur blindly – Alfred knew he did, despite what happened.

And he _had_ to trust Arthur’s judgement on this, too. He couldn’t, but he knew he had too. Arthur did what was best in the piracy world – not doing anything would have made him appear soft or weak. And the reason they were able to roam streets in dangerous cities, or were mostly left alone at sea by other pirates and hell, even the navy, was due to the fact that Arthur had a ruthless reputation.

Alfred had just never seen it before, not to this extent.

But, he figured as he walked back to the Emerald Dragon, talking to Arthur could solve his conflict. If he could at least hear the other’s thoughts on this, he could the decide whether or not to harbour a grudge against the man.

On the ship, he wanted to head to the captain’s quarters, but was stopped by Laurence. Apparently news travelled fast, because the look he gave him radiated pity.

“Captain is talking with Kirkland, privately.” He explained.

Well, jolly. The weird surge of jealousy was definitely not necessary, added to the bunch of emotions rummaging through him. He grumbled his response before heading back towards the upper deck, where Lukas was quietly talking with Mathias.

Upon his arrival, he sat down on a barrel, not caring if he interrupted a conversation or not. Fortunately, neither Scandinavian seemed particularly upset with him, instead pulling him in the conversation. Apparently they had been talking about their next stop.

They would stop in New Providence, an island in the Bahamas for a supply check. He was told the place was alike to Port Royal, being a lawless nest crawling with pirates and cutthroats. Though Mathias was pretty sure that if there would be an attack from the Russian, and it would go sideways, then they would opt to go to Barataria Bay instead. Both places said nothing to Alfred, but he didn’t ask.

After a short stop they would continue to roam along the coast of the America, the province of York being their last stop. After a break there, they would go to Bermuda, Ponta Delgada, and England. From there on, everyone was pretty sure that Arthur was going for the Pirate round, but it wasn’t sure yet.  

Besides, nothing was certain yet for Mathias and Lukas, who were obviously still discussing the merits of settling in America. Lukas seemed to want it more however, Mathias dreaming a little about Madagascar and beyond.

Half an hour into their conversation, they were interrupted as heavy boots made their way to their small group. Alfred turned around to be greeted with Arthur. He looked tired, but no worse for wear.

“You wanted to see me?”

Laurence must’ve said he had been intending to go to the pirate’s quarters. Nodding, he stood up and followed his captain back to his quarters. Laurence and the French captain apparently have already left, too, for they were nowhere in sight.

After Alfred closed the door, he released the breath he had been holding for the last few seconds. He was still tense however, his conversation was most likely not going to be very soothing.

“You’re angry.” Arthur said, as he leant on his desk. As if nothing happened, he shrugged of his coat, placing it on the desk neatly. Alfred nearly lost his mind right there.

“Angry? Angry doesn’t cover it. Why… _why_ did you do that? Feliciano, really? What on _earth_ -“

“Calm down.” Arthur reprimanded with a glare. “I took the best of both worlds.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Gilbert had given him an inkling of what it meant, but he wanted to hear it from the other too. He refused to sit down when Arthur gestured for him to, so Arthur scowled and sat on his desk, messing up the papers on it slightly.

“Killing Lovino would have been too easy. Killing his brother, however… Lovino will never forgive Antonio. Granted he’ll never forgive _me_ , but he is hardly of any concern to me. Antonio is obviously and hopelessly smitten with the boy, so in the long run this was the best punishment.” A wicked grin appeared on his face, and Alfred felt a bit nauseous. “As for Feliciano – Gilbert knew of Antonio’s plan and had done nothing, keeping himself out as he always does. Going after his beloved brother was a profitable side benefit.”

Relieved that he was at least truthful, Alfred still gaped at the other, Arthur still grinning madly. “That’s… you’re sick.” Alfred accused, grimacing.

“Am I, Alfred?” Arthur asked, taking on a more innocent expression. “Am I _sicker_ than the man who apparently controls the Kraken? Am I more horrible than the man abducting a young priest out of his church and keeping him for his own _sick_ pleasure? Am I really as terrible as the common man who abandons his wife and child to pursue a life of treasure and alcohol?”

Alfred didn’t really know what to say. He had half expected Arthur to bring up Alfred’s own mistakes and had been completely ready to argue about that, but clearly Arthur wasn’t in the mood for a verbal fight after all. He had to admit that Arthur was right in what he said.

“I _could_ have instead taken either priest and keelhaul them. Would you have preferred that?”

“No, of course not.” Alfred admitted, slinking back from his aggressive stance slightly. “But Feliciano was innocent. He didn’t deserve that. And Lovino didn’t even know.”

“Or did he not want to know? How could he accept his sweet _amante_ would do something like that? Surely that is against what the pope preaches.”

Alfred hated how condescending Arthur spoke and how twisted his grin still was – but he had a point. He wasn’t right per se, and Alfred didn’t approve, but he had a point still.

And he couldn’t _think_ straight with Arthur slowly unbuttoning his shirt like that – what was the big idea? The shirt fell open, and Alfred was blessed with the sight of the other man’s pale chest. Arthur stood up from the desk and walked over to him, nimble fingers working on his own buttons.

He shivered as Arthur’s fingers touched his own bare chest, but tried to hold by his resolve. “Really? After this, after _yesterday_ , you want to… Are you serious?”

Arthur laughed breathily, nuzzling Alfred’s neck and caressing it with his lips. “You should be familiar with the high one can get after a dangerous situation has passed. And I would gladly have made do with the frog, but you were so passionate about that the last time.”

Alfred wanted to reply something snarky and perhaps even push the other man off, he was seeing Feliciano’s brains on the stone still and the queasy feeling wasn’t leaving, but he was so totally right and totally ready for the grabbing and Alfred couldn’t think straight. Arthur chose to nibble on his earlobe and as expected it did wonderful, weird things to his stomach, and he felt his resolve crumbling.

He was just as much of a sick bastard, he concluded.

This, did confirm his earlier suspicion however – Arthur was a little into power play, it seemed. Though his body was still frozen and not able to push the other away, Alfred was also not able to move away either, basking under the attentions of his captain. His shirt was shoved off easily, Arthur’s hand dancing from his sides to his shoulders, the sensation not really tickling him but doing other things.

“But by all means, if you are still angry, punish me as you see fit.” Arthur said playfully, and Alfred groaned.

“You’re insane.” He replied, relenting and wrapping his arms around the smaller man. Arthur laughed an ‘ _I know’_ in his ear, and he allowed himself to be pushed into Arthur’s bedroom whilst their lips were locked.

On the way to his bed, Arthur had deftly opened his trousers and it sagged to his hips, making Alfred trip a little until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat down. Arthur pushed him down further, straddling him, not once breaking their kiss.

Every time Alfred thought he had won the battle of dominance that took place between their tongues and started to relax, Arthur would suck or bite on his lip or tongue, starting it over again. He was starting to think Arthur backed off only to come back twice as hard because it would unnerve Alfred, but Alfred couldn’t care less. Even if Arthur was only making him feel as if he were in control, everything he did was amazing.

Eventually Alfred had to part to take a breath, feeling blown away by the intensity of Arthur’s kiss. His mind reeled with how this was wrong, not because of obvious reasons but because of what had happened before and because he was fairly sure Arthur was a little twisted.

But he was enjoying this thoroughly, so what did that say about him? He was just as twisted, he reasoned.

Arthur wasted no time in kissing and biting at where Alfred’s shoulder met his neck, before going lower. Being able to only see Arthur’s hair and some skin on his shoulders, he marvelled for a moment how white the other man was, despite being in the sun so much. He was covered with the slightest amount of freckles as well, spread completely at random on his skin.

He registered Arthur shoving his pants further off his hips, before a hand wrapped around his half-erect length and started to drag it up and down slowly. He cursed at the smirk Arthur gave him, throwing his head back on the bed as Arthur continued with his ministrations.

Alfred was about to pull the other up again so that he could at least do something other than helplessly lying on the bed, when instead he jerked his head back against the bed again. Arthur had dipped down and all but swallowed his length in his mouth in one go.

“ _Holy mother of-“_ he cried out, feeling Arthur chuckle around his cock. One of his hands immediately went down to clutch Arthur’s hair, though he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pull the other off of him or if he wanted to push him down – _damn_ the man was good with his mouth.

Apparently he said that last part out loud or something, because Arthur hummed in response, obviously pleased with himself. He began to bob backwards and forwards, cheeks hollowing slightly and Alfred’s eyes rolled back into his head again, not able to watch the other man no matter how much he wanted to.

Arthur’s hands were on his hips, holding him down a little, but when he sucked and Alfred’s grasp on his hair tightened to what had to be painful, he moaned and stopped sucking for a moment.

Huh, interesting.

For now he kept his far too tight grip on the others hair, and Arthur got back to what he was doing. He got to the tip and licked at the slit, which had Alfred croaking out some more words – he wasn’t even sure what he was saying and if were human words, but his mouth wasn’t going to shut up as usual – and he wasn’t sure if it was bad, because Arthur certainly seemed pleased. He was probably saying nasty stuff or making weird animal noises, but he didn’t _care._

Arthur released Alfred with an obscene pop, licking his lips as Alfred managed to open his eyes and ground out a confused ‘ _what’_ as he released his hold on the other man’s hair. The smaller man moved back up to straddle Alfred, leaning slightly to the left to grab something on the table next to the bed. Flushing bright red, Alfred noticed it was a vial of some sort of oil.

He wanted to comment on it, but Arthur captured his lips with his own again, and he moaned at the salty taste that had to be from his own precum. He knew he should be disgusted, but he found it rather erotic and lapped at the others mouth to his heart’s desire.

When Arthur parted from him again, biting his lower lip whilst leaving, Arthur shook the vial in his fingers. “You’re going to watch – because next time you will be doing this.”

 _Sweet_ , there was going to be a next time. He had no idea why he had been in the captain’s quarters in the first place, but he was definitely liking the result.

He knew he was staring wide-eyed as Arthur removed his own trousers completely, uncorking the vial and lavishing his free fingers with the stuff. Lavender filled Alfred’s nose for a second, and he resisted the urge to sneeze. Setting it down again, Arthur shifted a little on Alfred, their crotches rubbing against each other wonderfully, before sitting up a little.

At Alfred’s aroused look, Arthur chuckled breathily again, muttering something about bratty virgins before reaching back with one arm. For a moment Alfred was instead mesmerized by the other man’s length, not having been able to take a good look before, before remembering that he had to watch and he felt as if his jaw dropped when he saw _what_ Arthur was doing precisely.

He sat up on his elbows, eyes fixed on Arthur’s arm that went behind his back, feeling rather entranced as Arthur slipped a finger inside of himself.  There wasn’t a look of discomfort on the other’s face for very long, and Alfred remembered enough of his earlier information sessions with the loud mouthed Scandinavian to know what he should be doing.

“Better start practicing immediately.” He muttered, proud that he didn’t falter. He reached for the same bottle, not caring if he emptied it on his own hand, and slapped Arthur’s hand away. Arthur was surprised, but hummed in agreement, slippery hand coming up to clutch at his shoulder.

He used his dry hand to grab Arthur by the hip forcefully, rolling them around. He used a bit more force then he had expected, and Arthur groaned with a slightly annoyed expression as Alfred only just managed to avoid elbowing him in the stomach.

Well, he was going to forget that ever happened. Deciding not to give Arthur time to come up with an insult or comment, he used his knees to spread Arthur’s legs and let his oil-covered hand wander down. He danced his fingers on Arthur’s thighs for a moment, wondering how to go about this.

“The trick is not to think too much.” Arthur helpfully supplied, lifting his hips in search of the other’s hand. Deciding to just copy Arthur, Alfred focused on the other man’s face as he effortlessly slipped a finger in. Arthur’s breath hitched and he smirked at the man above him. “Quick learner.”

His amazement with that he met only little resistance – he had to buy Mathias a drink, because he really hadn’t known this was possible – was short lived as Arthur wriggled around. He got the hint and slowly slid his finger in and out of the other, finding the way that Arthur was wriggling against him immensely distracting.

Arthur stopped wriggling after a moment, instead pushing down on Alfred’s finger and whispering all kinds of dirty words and promises, so instead of letting himself be distracted he roughly pushed in a second one, enjoying in the way it made Arthur’s voice falter. Praises followed, and not too long after he slid in a third on Arthur’s command ( _more more more)_.

He felt Arthur’s hand, still slippery with the oil, move down and wrap around his own straining erection again, slathering it in the stuff. Trying to resist being loud, he bit into the other man’s shoulder, breathing loudly through his nose.

“Oh god, Jones, _Alfred,_ ” He decided he liked the way the other said his name very much and vouched to have it repeated. “Flip our positions.”

He removed his fingers and turned them around, him lying on the bed again with Arthur straddling his waist. He looked positively radiant in Alfred’s eyes, sultry green gems staring down from underneath wild blonde hair, blood having rushed to the other man’s cheeks. He hadn’t meant to do it, knowing it would kill the mood, but he reached his clean hand up to caress the other man’s cheek.

The tender action indeed made Arthur scowl, and his hand was slapped away. Thankfully, he didn’t retreat, instead sitting up on his knees slightly. He reached back to grab at Alfred’s length again, aligning himself with it. He felt his dick prodding the other man’s ass until Arthur apparently got the right aim, and Alfred is sure his eyes rolled back again when Arthur graciously just sunk down on him, his hands immediately clutching at his hips hard enough to bruise.

Arthur panted and took a moment, and once Alfred regained more sense they stared into each other’s eyes for a while. Arthur’s hand were on his shoulders, pushing him down in means of holding himself up.

“Fuck- _God_ -“ Alfred managed to choke out as Arthur did an experimental shift of his hips. His captain grinned smugly. “How is it- why- it’s fucking _tight_.”

“Is that so?” Arthur hummed, and Alfred was pleased to notice that his breath was also faltering a little. At least that proved that he wasn’t not feeling this.

With another smug smirk, Arthur pushed himself upwards, slowly and agonizingly until only Alfred’s tip was still buried inside of the other man before the man promptly slammed himself back down. Alfred choked out more profanities and he was definitely not going to heaven anymore after all the words that left his mouth, his grip on Arthur’s hips tightening even more. He felt Arthur wince slightly but he also moaned appreciatively, so he was in conflict of having to loosen his hold or not.

“ _Christ_. Tighter.” Arthur moaned, dropping down a little so that their chests were flush against each other. Well, that confirmed the pain thing. Alfred was a little disturbed – he really didn’t want to intentionally hurt the other. But Arthur seemed to be all sorts of hot for it, so what the hell was he supposed to do? “Alfred, I’m not made of glass.”

“Fuck, I know.” Alfred managed, his hands releasing his hold on the other man’s hips. Instead he rested them at his sides, gently pushing until Arthur got the hint and they rolled over again. Alfred immediately preferred this position – Arthur looked _really_ good like that, draped over the bed with his legs propped up slightly as to help Alfred keep himself up a little.

Knowing Arthur was agile as hell, he experimented a little and grabbed one of the other man’s lean legs. Arthur laughed when he noticed what Alfred was trying to do, and indulged him by bringing his leg up before throwing it over Alfred’s shoulder.

“Shit _._ Okay, that’s nice, yeah.” Alfred moaned at the display Arthur put up for him, indulging Arthur in return by forcefully grabbing the leg and squeezing it. He was still buried to the hilt in the other man, and now that he had the position he wanted, decided they could get back to that.

As Arthur had done before, he slowly retreated and slammed back in, relishing in Arthur’s pleased groan. “Fuck Alfred, take me already, come on,”

The sudden stream of words leaving Arthur’s mouth managed to spur him on, as he tried to take his advice from earlier and not think too much. All he could think about anyway, however, was how Arthur was looking beneath him, face scrunched up in delight and hair messy around his face. It didn’t even occur to him on how he should call the other, the word ‘Arthur’ leaving his mouth like a chant, only silenced when Arthur grabbed him by the hair and met him for another sloppy kiss.

He grabbed one of the captain’s hands, initially wanting to lock their fingers together but deciding against the sentimental gesture. Instead he circled his hand around Arthur’s wrist, pushing it slightly above Arthur’s head and holding it there, firm enough to bruise, swallowing the other’s appreciative moan.

As he moved them into a more stable rhythm, he apparently did something good, because Arthur pulled away from him and almost crowed with delight, walls constricting slightly around Alfred’s length. Figuring this was the part that had to do with aim, he slowly aimed for the same spot, Arthur reacting much the same.

Smugly smirking at being able to make such a mess of the other, Alfred hid his face in Arthur’s neck as he upped his game and roughly aimed for the same spot again and again. he was a little embarrassed that the sheer strength he used made the noises it did and that the bed actually _moved_  a little, but he had much better things to worry about. For example, biting at the pale neck presented in front of him.

Arthur whispered in his ear again, strangely in all kinds of languages. That kind of aroused Alfred even more, if it could. Hearing the careless Spanish, French and even Italian (which he could understand here and there thanks to Lovino’s potty mouth) was fascinating if not impressive. Especially in a state like this. He did understand the ‘so close’ that was whispered in English however, causing him to shudder in delight.

He wasn’t even aware of being close himself up until then, but he was damn sure going to outlast the man, he had to. He breathed his response out against the other’s neck, licking apologetically at the bite marks he had left.

Remembering the other time they had found themselves in a position similar to this, Alfred released his hold on Arthur’s wrist and instead reached down to stroke Arthur in time with his thrusts.

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur murmured. “There, yes, there, _please_.” Hearing the other man actually saying the word – Alfred hadn’t known please had been in Arthur’s dictionary – made him literally curl his toes. It made him feel as if his blood was boiling, a weird primal instinct overcoming him.

All of a sudden, Arthur came, a warm sticky mess covering Alfred’s hand. He clenched down wonderfully around Alfred, who was immediately lost himself. His thrusts faltered, knowing Arthur was now also clenching down deliberately, as if to milk him out.

Once he was finally able to regain his senses and stop moving, he only just managed to not collapse on the other. He instead slumped to the side a little, Arthur humming as he slipped out. Lying down on his side he watched the other man.

If he had known it had felt this good – why the fuck had he only been fooling around before, when he was younger?

Though it was entirely possible, Alfred thought in his amazed state, that the effect was caused purely by Arthur.

Feeling strangely crass and confident, he watched as Arthur’s closed eyes opened and locked into a gaze with his own. “So, better than expected?” Arthur let out a very unattractive snort at that, glaring lightly. Alfred laughed, watching as Arthur stood up. He was about to ask where he was going when he noticed he had dabbed a cloth in a wash basin nearby, and was cleaning himself up. He should probably do the same.

“You came _inside_ of me, you twat.” Arthur eventually complained. “Now I’m going to soil my pants with every step I take.”

What did that mean? Alfred frowned, but when Arthur pointed to his behind that was on display with how he was standing, he gulped. White stuff was dribbling between his thighs. He was certain all the blood left his lower areas and shot up to his face, with how warm it felt.

It helped when Arthur pulled on his trousers, and he rushed to do the same. At least with trousers on he could feel some sort of dignified privacy returning. He did wash his hands, wiping the water off on his trousers before looking around for his shirt, realizing it was still in the other room.

A knock on the door startled both men out of their routine, however. He recognized James through the wood. “Captain, we’re ready to leave.”

Arthur sighed, a tired look on his face once more. “Give the order to set sail in half an hour, James.”

“Yes, sir.” Alfred waited until he heard the door to the captain’s quarters shut again, signalling the man’s leave, before turning back to Arthur. The blonde man was sitting on his bed, rubbing at his head with an annoyed expression. Alfred winced slightly at the already obvious bruises on the man’s hips – not to mention his neck and shoulder. He had been kind of rough there, he realized.

“Well,” Arthur said, sending the other a weird look. “You seemed eager to forget about your sorrows there, didn’t you?”

That _bastard._

Alfred scowled and sauntered over to where the other man was sitting. “I’m _not_ doing this. You can’t bully me into seeing this as something else, Arthur.”

Arthur glared up at him, his eyes still wonderfully glazed over by the previous occurrence. “Seeing this as something else? What did you think this was? Do you expect me to roll over and play housewife?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Alfred said, slightly offended. He sighed, sitting down on the bed as well. Arthur was obviously angry that Alfred was still there, but he had to get this out of his system first. “And I’m not leaving until you accept this for what it is.”

“Do tell me, what is this?” The words lacked their usual venom, instead sounding genuinely curious. He turned his head a little to see Arthur stare at him, face unreadable.

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t _nothing_.”

After a few seconds, Arthur looked away. “Fine.” He spat angrily, but that was enough for Alfred. Happy with this accomplishment, he decided to make himself scarce. He was slightly nauseous with himself after all – he had come to the quarters feeling sorrow and anger and now he was leaving it in bliss? He should be ashamed.

Once outside, he was immediately approached by the other riggers – right, he had been promoted to master rigger. But what the hell did master riggers do? Knowing they were to set sail, he lamely told them to get ready for that. They didn’t complain or falter at Alfred’s uncertainty however, so perhaps the job wasn’t that hard.   
  


Contrary to what Alfred believed at first, they weren’t attacked the moment they left the docks. Still, La Liberté sailed nearby them. He was faintly reminded of the trouble the Midsommarafton’s presence had caused by sailing nearby, but this wasn’t open sea.

They had been sailing for roughly three hours. Just as Alfred considered changing shift to catch some shut-eye, they saw light signals coming from the French ship ahead of them. Next to him, Arthur scoffed. Both men had been sitting in the crow’s nest, lazily overlooking the seas in front of them.

“I have to be impressed with his predictability.” He commented, nodding towards the ship in front of him. “But perhaps he knew that we knew.”

“Is it going to be trouble?”

“Depends on how many ships he brought. According to Francis two are sighted, but the man is like a bloody Hydra. Right then, to your station.”

He watched as Arthur agilely slid down the mast, shouting orders to his crew. Alfred heaved himself out of the nest as well, settling on the second highest mast and addressing the riggers to also get their asses into gear.

Alfred started in surprise, balancing himself better on the mast as the French ship in front of them had already began firing. So much for negotiations, though if he had to be honest he hadn’t expected those anyway.

La Liberté seemed to be flanked between two ships. Between it and a ship was enough space to squeeze another ship in, and it didn’t take very long for the Emerald Dragon to appear in the field of battle. It was only then Alfred idly noticed their ship being the bigger of the two, but he was under no illusion of the danger La Liberté possessed. They had taken a few hits but they didn’t look damaged at all.

Looking down, he was momentarily mesmerized. Arthur was always in his element in these kinds of situations, looking as if he enjoyed it almost. Alfred couldn’t really see his face or expression from this height, and it was also blocked by Arthur’s hat from where he was, but he could imagine it. The fierceness in the emerald pools Arthur called his eyes, how his lips would curl in an unpleasant but pretty attractive grin.

He reminded himself that didn’t have time to watch the battle unfold or watch his captain do what he had to do. He set himself and the others to work to reign the sails in the best they could without stopping the ship still, to prevent any cannon balls ripping them apart.

To his right he heard Mathias curse. Apparently there were another two ships in front of them. He shouted as much down, where Arthur acknowledged him. How the captain had been able to hear the Dane over all the cannon fire and shouts, was beyond him.

He watched as Arthur, who was at the steering wheel as of now, swirled it around so that they would move out of their course.

“Hold on!” Alfred shouted immediately. As expected, the ship swerved to the right abruptly. Not enough to be dangerous, and though the men on the masts wobbled a little, nobody seemed to bother to hold on.

Except when they saw their front heading straight towards the other ships, and people scrambled to grab hold of the wood below them. The ship lurched and creaked as its hull slammed into the enemy ship. He cringed to think of the damage it did to their own hull – but was more pleased by the damage of the other ship.

They didn’t slam into the other ship head-front, but the bowsprit still managed to tear at their front sails and beams. Arthur gave no permission to board, instead ordering everyone be either killed from a distance with gunfire or left to drown once they damaged the ship’s hull appropriately.

That didn’t stop the captain from boarding their ship however. Alfred had already climbed down the mast and up to him when Arthur made his way through the decks with ease, jumping of the forecastle deck and onto the main deck of the other ship.

For a second Alfred panicked, wishing to go after the man, but James grabbed him by the arm.

“If you want to help, watch his back!” He was told, James already going back to shooting the people trying to board their own ship. He nodded wordlessly, grabbing his new gun which he had fortunately already provided with new powder and bullets, picking of the men trying to go after Arthur.

Eventually Arthur disappeared out of his sight however, and behind him he heard Leon give the order to retreat.

“What?” He muttered, surprised. He hadn’t seen Arthur return yet, had he? “But what about the captain?”

“Captain’s orders.” Leon said dully, moving to try and dislodge the Emerald Dragon of the other ship. It took a lot of lurching and they probably took more damage than they would have wanted to, but with the help of some hand cannons that cleared the way Leon managed to free the hull and bowsprit of the other ship.

The other ship started to sink, he noticed, and he felt panic rising in his throat again – if Arthur was still on that ship, they had to wait. Perhaps Alfred had to go after him instead, he could still make the jump.

As if on cue, Arthur reappeared on the other ship’s main deck with one of the women they had confronted in Port Royal, the smaller one. He held her by her hair as he all but dragged her to the deck. Alfred quickly shot a few of the straggles on the main deck down as he noticed them reaching for their firearms again.

Within seconds Arthur had thrown the woman down, having shot her in the head whilst muttering something to her. Unconcerned with the sinking ship and the men around him, he wandered over to the shrouds. He stood on the railing, shot of one of the ropes, and it helped him leap over the slightly bigger than before distance between the two ships.

Alfred rolled his eyes – that was way more dramatic than it had to be. Arthur caught his eyes and grinned widely, as if proud with his accomplishment. There was blood on the man’s blouse, coat and face and he wasn’t sure whether or not all of it belonged to Arthur’s victims. There was no limp or any other indication proving Arthur could be hurt, so he brushed it off for now.

“Two ships ahead, sir.” Leon said as Arthur returned to his earlier position.

“At least that blasted bitch is taken care of. Damage?”

“Thanks to your little stunt,” James said dryly. “We have to be careful.”

Arthur sneered at the man, most likely for his tone of voice if Alfred had any say in it. “That little _stunt_ might have very well saved us – I will not let myself be boxed in by Ivan and his psycho sister.”

“Of course. The front is extremely vulnerable for breaches. It would be best if attack the other’s side-on. Francis managed to halt the other ship.”

Looking to his right, he saw that La Liberté has indeed passed their own enemy ship. It was in flames, and while it didn’t sink it was obvious that they weren’t continuing either. Arthur grumbled about how sparing the bastards would be a bad idea, but gave permission to signal their own success anyway.

“Losses?”

“One.” Must be the poor bloke who fell down.

“Good. I want those cannons ready to fire. I want to be on the right, hopefully Francis catches my drift. We flank them, we sink them.”

Everyone set back to work and in no time they reached the other two ships. One of them was monstrous, and Alfred suspected Ivan to be on that one. Judging by the sour expression on Arthur’s face he was right too.

He walked back over to the main deck, calculating the distance between the ships to be at least five minutes. Mathias leant against the mast, grimacing as he messed with his gun. Lukas was usually with Ralph downstairs, trying to minimize damage or take care of any acute injuries of the crewmembers. He could faintly here Reggie shouting orders below them, his loud voice bellowing out through the chaos.

Mathias nodded at him, and sighed. “This is going to hurt.”

Looking at the gigantic ship waiting for them in the dark sea, Alfred agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amante - Lover


	16. Chapter 16

It had been a few days since their confrontation with Ivan’s ships. They had effectively sent the Russian running – or sailing – after sinking the other ship they had last encountered. Arthur was furious, feeling that they should go after the last one that probably contained Ivan on it, but La Liberté had more damage than they did and wasn’t up for another fight.

He had heard Francis talk French in a soothing voice until Arthur too relented, deciding they might as well just go on their ways. Alfred thought it stupid too however – now they were giving Ivan a chance to rebuild again, to repair. But after their own damage, Arthur didn’t want to risk it on his own.

The nice thing about the entire ordeal was however that Francis would head for Barataria Bay instead of the Bahamas.

After Francis left the captain’s quarters and boarded his own ship, ready to leave, Arthur had turned to Alfred. He had offhandedly commented on how they probably wouldn’t see Francis for another year now when he had noticed Alfred brooding with a glum expression outside of his quarters. Slightly embarrassed that he had been caught eavesdropping, Alfred had allowed Arthur to tug him into the quarters and into his bedroom for some company.

Now, Alfred was exhausted. The journey to Nassau, New Providence, was taking them longer due to the damage of the ship. Because of the longer travel time, they were put on rationing again.

They had encountered a rather horrifying storm, for one. He had more than once felt sure the ship was going to turn over and sink during it, though Arthur stood rather confidently at the wheel as he worked his crew though it. No one had fallen off and drowned, at least, so that was a plus. Alfred shuddered as he remembered having to cling to the clinging as the water swept onto the deck and pulled back into the sea.

After the storm had died off, he had been on duty of patching up a sail that had ripped, which was rather tedious work. Especially since he wasn’t a master in sowing. His fingers still ached from all the pricks to his flesh. At least he didn’t have the tiring job of filling buckets of water and throwing them off the ship.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst happened about a day ago. People were hanging off the ship to try and repair some of the damage on the front of the hull, as expected. Alfred had taken a break of the duty himself, instead looking down at Mathias and trading jokes with Lukas about the man as the Dane worked on the ship.

The sun was about to set, and there had been screaming on the other side and more ruckus. Lukas and Alfred had curiously wandered over to the other side, looking down, only to see a broken rope and no sailor in sight. The water underneath where the sailor had to be rippled slightly, as if he had fallen down.

The man that had worked next to him had all but clambered up the side of the ship, crying out the source of the trouble. Mermaids.

Arthur had cursed and had ordered the rest of the men up quickly, deciding the rest of the repairs could wait until they would be at their next destination. Alfred sighed as he kicked up his feet. It was the middle of the day, and there was no ship in sight. Sailing went a little slower than usual, but still fast enough to not attract any attention.

Still, there wasn’t much to do at the moment. The wind was at least favourable, so after the sails were righted he had joined some of the crew on the forecastle deck for a game of cards. The only thing that had been given extra attention were the night shifts – Arthur didn’t want any fish women slithering onto his deck or worsening the damage on the hull.

As of now, he was in the captain’s quarters with said captain, who was leaning on his desk as he peered at the maps scattered on top of it. He shut the door behind him and wandered over to the desk, sitting in one of the chairs.

“What are you doing?” He asked, curiously. He watched as Arthur raised his eyes from the maps towards his own, a pleasant shiver crawling up his spine when their intensity was focused onto him instead of the papers beneath him.

“Reconsidering.” Arthur said simply. In his hands was a tool Alfred wasn’t familiar with, a sextant if he remembered correctly. “I might alter our route a bit, but I am unsure as of now.” He sighed as he tossed the sextant on the desk and sat down in his own chair.

“You’ll figure it out.” Alfred said with a smile, relaxing a little as he saw the hard lines on Arthur soften a bit.

“Was there something you needed, Alfred?”

Alfred shook his head, grinning cheekily. “Got nothing to do.” He offered, hoping the other didn’t mind. Arthur spared him an exasperated look but said nothing else, so Alfred was going to take that as an okay. “Where are we exactly?” He asked, leaning forward to glance at the maps.

Arthur did so too, pointing a glove fingers somewhere between what he knew to be the continents of America. Arthur dragged his finger upwards then, explaining their supposed route, before sliding it overseas to a few islands and back to England.

He was aware that it was getting late, but Arthur didn’t seem to mind and they were talking so freely and comfortably that Alfred had absolutely no intention of leaving any time soon. In fact, he was even considering just staying the night, opting to give suggestive glances and smiles here and there, but he wasn’t sure if Arthur was noticing or accepting it.

Alfred could at least admit to himself that he was rather infatuated with the other man. Every free thought he had would inexplicably end up with his captain, every lost glance would find him and every time Alfred had a moment to himself he found himself spending it with the other man instead.

“I was thinking of making a detour.” Arthur eventually mused, fingers landing near England on Scotland. He frowned for a moment, lips set in a tight line before visibly sagging his shoulders a little. “Do you remember me trading papers with Francis?”

After the raid, Alfred remembered. He had been curious about that but had forgotten honestly. “Yeah, why?”

“On there is a possible location of my brothers.” Arthur said after another moment of consideration. He looked down at the desk with a frown. “I am not quite sure what I want to do with the information. Especially not if it proves to be correct.”

“But you want to check it out?” Alfred promptly asked, hoping he wasn’t intruding or offending. Arthur was unreadable for a moment, but eventually nodded.

Alfred offered a tiny, genuine smile. It probably meant a lot for Arthur to just share this with him out of nowhere, and Alfred _lived_ for moments like that. Arthur explained that he had no ulterior motive as of now, and was merely toying with the idea, but Alfred quickly told him he should do what he felt was right and that the crew would be with him no matter what, anyway.

That kind of seemed to put the smaller man at ease. Arthur nodded and his lips curled slightly towards what was definitely going to be a smile as he leaned back on his chair, when he froze instead and set hard eyes to the door.

Suddenly Arthur sat upright, the feet of his chairs snapping back onto the ground. Alfred stopped mid-sentence, eyeing the other with curiosity. Arthur looked right past him, focusing on some part of the door or wall with a concentration Alfred could only hope to rival.

“Stay here.”

Arthur pushed away from his desk, storming outside. The door clattered a little as it wasn’t closed properly, and Alfred frowned. He looked over to the desk and all the maps that were stalled out on it. On his own he didn’t understand shit, so he figured that would be getting boring soon.

Not able to sedate his curiosity, he stood up and shuffled to the door as well, slipping out of the quarters quietly. The deck was eerily quiet, and he noticed two people in the crow’s nest who were lazing off a little.

Wandering further onto the deck, he wondered why so little of their crew were on deck.

 “I told you to stay put.” Someone whispered behind him. He resisted jumping in surprise and turned around to sheepishly grin at a furious looking Arthur. He was about to apologize when Arthur shushed him, looking up slightly.

Then Alfred heard it – _singing?_

“Go to my quarters and lock the door.” Arthur ordered, already leaving. Like hell he was, though. Alfred frowned and instead watched Arthur disappear onto the upper deck. To his right, he saw Mathias on the forecastle deck.

Mathias was leaning over the railings slightly, obviously not having noticed Alfred walking up to him. Grinning, he decided to grab the other man and scare him.

Eventually he grabbed the other man because it seemed as if he were going to fall down the ship.

“Mathias, what-“ He faltered when he looked past Mathias. A head – no, the head of a woman poked out over the railings. She looked a little confused and concerned, her lips pouting a little. He released Mathias instantly, and alarm bells went off in his head as he made to grab his pistol.

Unfortunately he wasn’t sure what his hand was doing. He saw the lips of the woman moving and her concerned expression shifted into a bright, sweet smile. He blinked as a pleasant buzz came over him, invading his thoughts and minds and making it simply impossible to think about anything else. It almost felt as if he had consumed just the right amount of alcohol, as if he had slept just the right amount of hours and if he had a full belly in a warm place.

It felt marvellous. He felt as if he were floating, perhaps soaring in the sky or lying on his back in the water of a gentle ocean.

And the _smells_. Oh, he smelt salt, but it was a pleasant kind of smell. It reminded him of the ocean and of freedom and of the air. And he smelled a wonderful perfume, reminding him of the few women he had cared about in his life, a sweet scent drifting into his nose and making itself home in Alfred’s entire being.

Everything except for the girl was kind of blurry, but he didn’t mind much. She was _gorgeous_.

Alfred marvelled at the dimples in her cheeks and her slightly upturned nose, giving her a young atmosphere. Her voice was melodic, reminding him of lullabies his mother used to sing for him when he had a nightmare. She giggled as he stumbled closer, hand outreached for her instead o his gun. Her hair looked _so soft-_

He flinched back when a gunshot rang. The woman in front of him hissed, her features turning angrier and uglier. He felt the daze in his head vanquishing in thin air, his head hurting from the sudden change as he tried to shake his head and clear his vision.

Next to him, Lukas aimed his gun to her head, and Alfred wanted to protest. Surely one could not kill such a perfect human being, right? Even Lukas, estranged from women as he might be because of his partner, had to see that. No, Alfred couldn’t allow it. He felt too sluggish to move however, the daze in his head combatting fiercely with the strain he wanted to put on his muscles.

“I won’t miss next time. ”

The mermaid screeched and jumped, flopping back into the water. Alfred whirled around, the spell instantly broken and he resisted falling down, clutching his head.

 _What the hell_?

His vision sharpened immediately and it only worsened the headache he was feeling, as if he was incredibly hungover. He felt queasy too, the swaying of the ship not helping one bit. The feeling of soaring or floating was coldly replaced by a feeling of standing on hard ground and he stumbled as he turned to Lukas and Mathias.

Mathias was still slightly dazed and whimpered when Lukas hit him up the head with the butt of his gun.

“Lukas?” Alfred croaked, clutching his head still.

“You two are sorry idiots.” Lukas sneered, grabbing Mathias by his unruly mop of hair and all but dragging him down the deck while motioning for Alfred to follow.

Right then someone shouted in alarm and he heard a splash of water, larger than the one the mermaid he had just witnessed made. He couldn’t quite put two and two together however, his head aching the loss of what seemed like an utopia and his eyes struggling to adjust.

Then it was chaos. The people on deck hurried to either get off the deck and down below where they would be safer, whilst other crewmembers stumbled over to the railings much like Alfred had done. He saw more and more women holding onto the railings as they undoubtedly climbed their way up, and gunshots as Lukas tried to warn as many of them off whilst also dragging Mathias with him.

Alfred felt confused and dizzy, and he turned his head to look for Arthur. Instead he locked eyes with a dark-haired mermaid, and felt the same tug he earlier felt.

But she was just _so pretty_ and _oh_ that smell was so nice. What could be wrong with this wonderful feeling? It felt so cosy and comfortable and Alfred wanted to be buried underneath it, like he would bury himself and Matthew in a fort of blankets and pillows when his father was angry with them, or how he would take a nap in the warm hay during the summers where he helped out with the stables.

Alfred had to say hello to the girl, just once. Just hello wouldn’t hurt anyone, it was the civil thing to do. She was quite certain the girl of his dreams, he thought, olive brown skin glittering with the water of the ocean and big, brown eyes luring him in.

He was snapped out of his reverie in shock, must faster this time, as her head exploded and her body fell off the ship. He felt as if his entire world crashed again, and his head _hurt_ , it felt as if it were going to split. He moaned and clutched his head with two hands, clenching his eyes shut and willing the pain away.

He heard someone snarl and heavy footsteps – boots – making his way over to him, before a gentle hand landed on his head and tugged it up slightly. He whined and opened his eyes, wincing at the pain in his head. He was oddly comforted however when he was met with Arthur’s concerned, yet furious glare – Arthur would know how to stop the pain, his mind helplessly provided.

Arthur’s hand dropped from his head to his shoulder. “I said-“

“Captain!”

“For fuck’s sake, Lukas, Leon! Get those buggers of the deck!” Arthur shouted over Alfred’s shoulder, making Alfred wince again as his headache flared. Alfred wondered if he would be keelhauled if he were to just give in and lean his weight on the smaller man. Arthur looked terribly inviting in that moment, and he knew Arthur could make him feel better.

He stiffened as he noticed another brown-haired beauty leaning over the edge a little to Arthur’s right. Instead of the daze he felt before, he felt an entirely different kind of daze. It was confusing, suffocating, as he switched between her and Arthur. Everything in him screamed to approach the beautiful lady – but everything in him also screamed for him to grab Arthur and make a run for it – and his head was _hurting_ and he couldn’t _think_.

“Alfred, listen to me. Alfred!” He snapped his fingers in front of Alfred’s eyes, finding the origin of Alfred’s daze pretty quickly and shooting it in her shoulder. “Get the _fuck_ over to my cabin or else.”

Alfred gulped and swayed as Arthur released him, wondering which way the cabin even was. He looked around helplessly, a bit confused by all the chaos and shouting around him, concern clouding his eyes when he took note of the men leaning on railings and gunshots firing here and there.

“Oh for the love of-“ He heard Arthur grumble, before his elbow was grabbed in a rather tight grip. He felt a tug and stumbled after the blonde man, hoping Arthur could do something about this terrible headache and this daze and the clearness of the world that just felt wrong to him somehow.

He was shoved inside a familiar looking room – captain’s cabin, his mind provided sluggishly – and was about to turn and grab Arthur to pull him into him to do something, _anything_ , when the door slammed shut in his face. He frowned and reached for the handle, but his daze and swaying made him miss, and he ungraciously slumped against the door instead.

Sitting down on his knees he turned slightly to sit with his back against the door, and he clenched his eyes shut again, willing himself to take a few deep breaths. It helped, especially since the cabin was a little quieter and consistent. Nothing changed, no one appeared. There was the familiar desk, the chairs, the globe, the other trinkets. He ran his fingers over the wood of the floor and stupidly thought Arthur could use a carpet for in the cabin.

He could hear a few more splashes and gunshots from outside, though they were quieter than before, and after what must have been only twenty minutes, noise died down. Once the daze finally wore off, Alfred was aware he was feeling rather heated. His headache lessened and allowed him to open his eyes, and he frowned as he looked at the rather obvious tent he was pitching.

As if on cue, the heat grew worse and worse and Alfred moaned for an entirely different kind of reason, slumping forward lightly. Managing to grab hold on one of the tables in the corner, he forced himself into a standing position. Rather than going back outside, where it was eerily quiet, Alfred stumbled through the room towards the door he recognized, and all but threw himself on the incredibly inviting bed in the middle of the other room.

He writhed against the sheets, not right enough by his mind to consider what he was doing and how he could help himself or how he could prevent it. Instead he ground his hips into the matrass, his mind supplying him with the images of the beautiful women – but it felt wrong, and instead he buried his nose in the sheets and smelled salt and woods and everything _Arthur_ , and he came almost embarrassingly soon after.

Riding out what had to be the weirdest orgasm ever, Alfred felt he was starting to have less trouble breathing. He felt sluggish and heavy, but his headache was as good as gone and he rolled onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. The sway of the ocean and the vast ground beneath him was oddly comforting, the opposite of what it had been before.

It took him a moment to recollect his thoughts and remember what happened, and he groaned at himself. He hadn’t thought himself to be so weak – for some reason his disbelief had made him reason that he would not be affected. He had even though that perhaps his infatuation with the green-eyed man he was waiting for would have faltered any enchantments. What a fool he was, indeed. He was almost embarrassed with how easy he was entranced.

Now that he was reminiscing, they weren’t even all that pretty.

He scowled at himself – of course he would think that _now_. After he had made a fool of himself and rutted against his captain’s bed as if he were some horny dog. He figured that was one of the after effects of entrancement – and that was logical really. Because, if the daze and headache weren’t incentive enough, what else than complete and utter lust to drive you to your death?

Alfred forced himself to get up after ten more minutes. It was still quiet and he needed to see if the rest was okay – if Arthur was okay, he suddenly thought with dread. Stumbling of the bed and ignoring the rather uncomfortable drying patch on his trousers, he forced his legs to move to the door and opened it.

The deck in front of him was empty, seemingly peaceful with the soft noises of the waves crashing against the boat and the dark, starry night sky surrounding them.

When he focused more however, he noticed it wasn’t as peaceful as he had thought. Blood coated the wood of the railings in some places of the ship, and there were some splinters and breaks in the wood that had not been there before.

He chanced a step outside, looking around warily, but saw absolutely no one. With a frown he took a few more steps, and then he noticed the soft talking coming from the deck above him. Recognizing the voices he felt oddly relieved as he quickly made his way up the deck.

His heart burst into little things as he met the figure of Arthur, standing tall and healthy and he felt immensely glad and ashamed for a second. Around him were Leon, Lukas, Emil and Neil, their boatswain. Alfred figured the five of them were the only ones not affected by the siren’s call, then.

What surprised him more was what was lying in the middle of their little circle. Though no less beautiful, Alfred found it difficult to see what attracted him towards her and her kind so badly in the first place. There lay a dark blonde woman, obviously dead if the wound in the middle of her forehead had any say in it, her eyes opened wide and empty-looking.

Pointedly ignoring her bare upper-body, his eyes curiously trailed over to her lower part. Lukas had once told him some mermaids were rumoured to turn into normal human beings with legs once they would be out of the water, but that was not the case with this one. Perhaps because she was already dead, or perhaps they were just rumours.

Her fin was rather gorgeous, Alfred noted with a sick kind of curiosity. It was dark blue and it glittered as the moonlight reflected on her wet scales. It curved naturally into a smaller part in the bottom, before splitting into the tell-tale two fins of a fish.

Arthur eyed him warily as Alfred took a step closer, investigating the find. He completely forgot about the state he was in – the patch on his pants was probably visible for everyone to see and it wouldn’t be difficult to guess what he was doing – but at the same time he found he didn’t really care and judging by everyone’s non-existent reactions, neither did they.

“Right,” Lukas said. “I am going back to Mathias. He might still be going through withdrawal.”

Arthur nodded as the Norwegian man left their company, Leon briefly explaining to both him and Emil that the longer you were under a mermaid’s influence, the longer your withdrawal would take. Alfred figured that was what he had gone through just now, then.

“So, do you want to wrap her up? You can make good money out of her.” Neil said, and Arthur seemed to consider it before shaking his head.

“If we don’t give her back to her family, they’ll be after us for the entirety of our journey. Dump her back into the ocean.” His tone left no room for arguments, and Leon and Neil dutifully grabbed the lady by her arms, dragging her over the deck. Alfred winced as he saw her tail get caught on a piece of wood, some of her scales littering the deck, before she was heaved overboard.

“I want you three on guard for the rest of the night.” Arthur then followed up. “You’ll be relieved of duty in the morning to catch up on sleep, don’t worry. Emil, go notify Lukas as well. He’ll join you.” The men all nodded and moved to fulfil their duties, and Alfred watched tiredly as Arthur turned towards him.

It was quite obvious Arthur was giving him a once-over, if the slight amused look was any indicator. Alfred had half a mind of covering the most embarrassing part of his current state but decided to just stand still and let himself be scrutinized.

Eventually, he couldn’t take the silent scrutiny, and he sighed. “I really underestimated that.”

Arthur scoffed in annoyance, but his eyes did betray concern and amusement. “I bet you did. How are you feeling?”

“Really weird? Like, tired, and sluggish, and warm and dazed. My eyes kind of hurt, too.”

“Common reactions. I am going to assume you went through every stage already.” Arthur said briskly, nodding down to Alfred’s pants. “but you will not be able to rid yourself of the uneasy feeling for a while to come. Go to my room and get some rest. I will stand guard with the others.”

Alfred really wanted to protest – for some reason, grabbing the other and dragging him down as well to just curl up against him for the night sounded _incredibly_ attractive, even if Arthur might bash his head in for such an intimate thing.

He decided on the next best thing however, and took a step closer to allow his head to drop on the smaller man’s shoulder. Arthur stiffened, as Alfred had expected, but he turned his head slightly and buried his nose in the man’s neck.

He felt more than heard Arthur sigh, before a hand lightly ran over his back. “I know, lad.” Arthur said softly, almost whispered, as Alfred took a few deep breaths.

It was oddly comforting to be near the other, as it made his stomach calmer and his eyes and head hurt less. He wondered if that had anything to do with their current relationship or if he would also feel comforted by a friend. 

“Now go get some rest.” Arthur eventually said, and Alfred found it sounded rather fond, as Arthur gently pushed him off of him. He obliged this time, trudging back down the stairs and entering the cabin again.

Bothered slightly by the uncomfortable dried spot on his pants, he simply ditched them on the floor before ducking underneath the covers, trying not to think of how intimate this felt despite the other man not being here. It wasn’t very hard to ignore that however, as he fell into a deep sleep moments after.

When he woke up, he felt as if he had rested for an eternity. He felt lazy instead of sluggish, which was a good thing, and nothing hurt in particular. Opening his eyes he had to steel his nerves instead of jumping in surprise as he was met with Arthur half-heartedly looming over him, his eyes searching.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked pretty instantly, eyes settling on Alfred’s own. At Alfred’s meek nod, Arthur nodded too before lying down on the bed, huffing. The light streaming into the room signalled it was day at least, and Alfred wondered if Arthur had only just finished his night guarding the ship. “You can stay here, if you like.” Arthur eventually said.

Alfred frowned – he wanted too, really, but since he was promoted he had more responsibilities and he wanted the ship to get the fuck out of here and into safer waters, so. “I should go and-“

“Indulge me, Alfred.”

The request was so sudden and genuine, that Alfred abruptly stopped talking. Feeling slightly giddy, he realized Arthur was in need of comfort as well, after the night they just had. Instead of leaving, Alfred dropped down back on the bed and smiled lightly as he turned towards Arthur, outstretching his arm and pulling the man closer to him.

* * *

 

The first thing Alfred did when he they finally docked at their destination was buy a new shirt. He threw the old one, which was practically caked with dirt and sweat, away with a frown, glad to be rid of it.

Secondly he arranged for another letter to be sent home, this one more vague than before because Alfred wasn’t really sure what to write, and he was also quite fatigued still. Besides, a ‘hey I’ve been attacked by mermaids and Russians but I’m cool’ wouldn’t be taken lightly, he thought. He hoped they even got his letters at all, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that.

It wasn’t until later that they were drinking with the crew, acting merrily, that Alfred had been hit with the sudden realization that he had almost been a whole year on sea already. The new year hadn’t been rung in yet, but as it was October, it would soon. It made him feel kind of nostalgic and weird – with all that had happened already he figured they’d been on sea for years and years, but time did not go as quickly as he had imagined.

He still often longed for home, to see how his family was doing and to see if his brothers were happy. He wondered if perhaps, one day, they would stop at the same village and he could go check. He doubted Arthur would allow it anywhere in the near future, but perhaps in a few years.

Besides, he liked to believe Arthur was starting to trust him or something. They hadn’t done _anything_ sexual ever since they left Port Royal, but more often than not Arthur would ask him to stay in his cabin with him. They talked and talked and talked, about trivial things as well as Arthur teaching him stuff. It was wonderful, actually.

And often he would be invited to stay the night too – or he would just take the initiative himself – lying down next to the smaller blonde and staring at him in awe until sleep would take him. Alfred praised himself a lucky man and felt lighter than he would have expected himself to feel after everything that had occurred.

Right now, he was showing off what he had learned from his trainings with James and the like, twirling his sword in his hands with a smug smirk as he saw Arthur getting a little tired. He hadn’t managed to win, but he’d only lost two times now and those were definitely good odds.

There was no real danger in their sparring, aside from bruises blossoming on Alfred’s skin (and perhaps Arthur’s), but the worst was just the bruising to Alfred’s ego. Still, he puffed out his chest a little and Arthur smirked.

“You’ve improved.” He said, his voice husky. Alfred shivered a little, all too happy to soak the praise in.

“Getting tired, old man?”

He watched in glee as Arthur’s shoulders shook a little with laughter. For some reason, Arthur always let himself go a lot more when it was just the two of them, especially when they were sparring. Once, during one of their nights in the cabin where both had poured over maps of the world, Arthur had offhandedly commented to him about how he appreciated it that Alfred sometimes treated him as an equal.

Alfred had been pleasantly surprised by that and voiced it, though his joy was quickly dimmed when Arthur then glared to him and reminded him who was captain nonetheless. Still, it was an ever present little light thing in is head as he looked to the other man.

“The day you tire me out is the day I resign my position.” Arthur said with a haughty air. Alfred snorted – yeah, right.

“I know how to tire you out, one way or another.” Alfred countered, winking lewdly so that the other would get his message. Arthur rolled his eyes, lips settling in a scowl, but Alfred knew he didn’t mean it entirely. “Though I could go with a break, if it’s all the same to you.”

“A break? Enemies will not give you a break.” Alfred graced him with him sticking his tongue out as a response. “Acting like a petulant boy will not get you anywhere.”

Alfred decided he was taking his break, no matter what Arthur said, and stuck his sword in the ground before sitting down. He groaned and closed his eyes as he stretched a little – the sun shone directly into the clearing they were at, basking him in a soft warm glow.

He supposed he was rather glad he was here and not in England – it would be freezing there, right now. And he always did like warmth more.

Next to him he heard some shuffling, before he heard Arthur gently sitting down as well. Opening his eyes to look, he took in the sight of his… well, captain for one, and he had no idea what else. Friend, hopefully? Maybe more.

Arthur’s coat and hat hung on a tree nearby them, Arthur having forgone it during their sparring. He only wore a crème blouse that clung to him (he noticed that rather appreciatively) and brown trousers tucked into his boots.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should give you a painting of me.” Arthur eventually said, cracking one eye open to sideways glare at Alfred. “It would last longer for you to look at.”

“That’s not a terrible idea.” Alfred said thoughtfully, leaning out of the way as Arthur made to smack him on the head. He grinned playfully as he swatted at the offending appendage. “I can’t help it, I could stare at you for hours.”

He immediately regretted saying what was on his mind as he watched Arthur tense and his lips set in a firm line. Damn him and his tendency to get carried away. It hadn’t taken him very long to figure out that while Arthur apparently enjoyed his presence and preferred it even, things like this were still very much taboo. Which is why Alfred had a lot of trouble thinking of them together in a romantic sense, though he wished it. Somehow.

Instead of cussing him out or ordering him to leave as Arthur usually did, he kept quiet this time, looking ahead of himself.

 It was strange. Ever since the mermaid incident, Arthur allowed Alfred to pull him close while they were sleeping, would even allow Alfred’s fleeting and lingering brushes of hand and such. But as soon as Alfred would accidentally mutter what was on his mind during those times, he locked down.

Sometimes he even flinched. And to test his theory he brushed his hand against Arthur’s where they both rested on the ground, and noticed Arthur didn’t react at it at all. He simply allowed it. Would not such a gesture inflict the same reaction? Alfred was confused, but he knew better and decided against commenting on it.

“There is an abundance of privateers gone pirate here.” Arthur eventually said, looking ahead still.

Alfred hummed. “Is that threatening or?”

“Not exactly. I overheard people wanting to declare the city a republic of pirates. Which seems rather hilarious to me. Nevertheless this place will most likely soon be havoc. It is good that we are not to return for a few years.”

“Can pirates actually declare a republic?” That was a weird idea, indeed. Arthur scoffed.

“Not legally, no. But if they were to overrun the inhabitants and legal authority here, then who will stop them from doing so?”

“How come this is a base for pirates anyway?” Alfred was genuinely curious – he was always amazed by how much Arthur knew after all.

“Over ten years ago, a privateer bribed the governor. From thereon, Nassau was a base where pirates could operate safely. After a fleet attacked the island it was abandoned and taken over by English privateers. They acted much like lawless pirates back then. It’s not very different from the other places we have been to, or will go to.” Arthur said, waving his hand in the air as if it were a trivial matter.

Alfred nodded, though he couldn’t find the resemblance. For him, every place they docked at opened up a new world of possibilities. Languages, cultures, everything.

“What’s your favourite? Of all the places you’ve visited? Or where did you feel most at home or something?”

Arthur seemed to consider the answer, allowing Alfred’s hand toying with his own for now (which made Alfred feel giddy).

“The sea is ultimately where I feel home. But I suppose St. Mary’s is a place I would always like to visit. The climate is nice, the people are not all wretched, and the raiding is plentiful, thanks to the East India Company.” Arthur eventually said, sighing wishfully. “Oh, but the exotics you could find from India. They are just marvellous.”

“I was expecting you to say Líbertatia.”

“You talk too much with drunkards.” Arthur said with a disapproving glare. “The entire idea is preposterous, and Misson probably only hoped to gain some sort of popularity.”

“Honestly, I am more inclined to just believe every pirate myth nowadays.” Alfred said, laughing. “If you would have told me about fish-women a year ago, I would have declared you insane.”

Arthur offered him a tiny, indulgent smile. “I suppose it is too early then, to explain to you the concept of faeries, undead and Calypso.”

“I am entirely unsure whether or not you are fucking with me right now, so I’m going to just ignore that.”

Arthur laughed, throwing his head back in delight. It was true – Alfred could never read his captain when they were talking about subjects like these, the man holding an air of mystery, and Alfred had decided on a thing. He would believe it when he saw it, and until then, he wouldn’t worry. About the mythical creatures. Unless he had seen them, so he already had to worry about the Kraken and mermaids now, and the list needn’t get any longer if he had anything to say about it.

“But how is it possible that not _everyone_ knows about creatures like that? The Kraken and mermaids and stuff. Surely there are people who write about them?”

“Of course, but you know how religion works. They want to suppress the idea of something other than their Gods being supernatural. Books containing information about these creatures will simply be burned.”

He got a point there. He was sure that if he were to go to his hometown’s church and would start telling them about the monsters he had encountered, he would be brought to a mental facility to be silenced, or worse. He supposed he praised himself lucky for never having an extremely religious family.

They shared a few more moments of amicable silence, and Alfred was about to suggest they continue their sparring when Arthur’s hand slipped out of his, it’s owner turning towards Alfred. He was sort of surprised to see the strange look on the other’s face, as if Arthur was having difficulty with choosing his words.

“Alfred,” Arthur eventually settled on, looking entirely unpleased with himself. “I have been… lately, you and I…” He stopped, biting his lip and Alfred thought it was _adorable_. “Blasted. What are your intentions as to staying on the ship? I do not wish to… have you feel obligated to stay. You needn’t fear for your life. I could arrange for you to go home.”

Whilst Arthur had earlier questioned him about him wanting to stay or not, he had never been this sincere about it. Hell, he had never even offered to have Alfred taken home safely either. Alfred knew his answer perfectly well, but it still threw him off guard.

Going home hadn’t even been on his mind for weeks, months maybe. Sure, he thought of home often, and he missed his family, but he would never trade the life he had right now. It was too exciting, too freeing, too exhilarating.

Arthur took his stunned silence as an answer however, his face turning from it’s weird vulnerability to something more distasteful. “I will speak to some people, and ensure you a place aboard a merchant’s ship back to England. Of course you will be paid for your services on your ship, so you will not return home a poor man.”

“Woah, wait!” Alfred all but cried out. “I never said I wanted to go back home! Where did you get that idea? I want to stay where I am!”

Arthur looked at him thoughtfully. “Why on _earth_ would you want to stay?” He asked, not giving Alfred time to answer. “You have a family, waiting for you at home. Hearing you talk about them ensures me they would take you back. You could have a family. Piracy is great and all, but I _know_ where a common man’s heart really is.”

“Gee, calling me common now huh?” Alfred said, slightly insulted but offering a grin nonetheless. “What part of me earlier exclaiming I wasn’t going away didn’t translate? I _like_ it here, I love to be able to sail everywhere I want to and I love the ship as if it were my home. Yeah, it basically is my new home.”

“The Emerald Dragon is your home?” Arthur asked, rather incredulously. He had lost his distastefulness and irritation, instead his face had become slightly unreadable.

“Totally! And I see the crew as family, you know. Drunkards as they might be.”

“Family.” Arthur deadpanned, giving him a rather flat look. Apparently Arthur didn’t really share the sentiment, even though Alfred knew Arthur cared for his crew. Alfred never had been able to adapt the whole ‘every-man-for-himself’ part of this deal, and he supposed he would most likely die one day taking the hit someone else was supposed to receive.

“And it has you.” Alfred eventually dared on saying. He was sure Arthur was going to flinch, but his mouth kind of had a will of its own. “Do you honestly expect me to go back home, marry some proper girl, and _not_ long for the seas and you every single day after?”

As expected, Arthur tensed, his eyes clenching slightly as his lips pursed. Alfred wasn’t bothered by it – at least, that was what he was trying to tell himself here. He was still a little hurt of course, but he knew he couldn’t expect anything from the other man.

“So, no,” He said with a nervous smile. “I don’t want to go home. My intentions are to stay on the ship. For as long as you would have me, of course.”

“You are quite odd.” Arthur said after a while, after the tenseness in his shoulders slowly bled out again, much to Alfred’s relief. “I know perhaps a handful of people who share my – and apparently yours too – view towards this life.”

Alfred felt hopeful as Arthur’s expression softened, but his mouth was still getting the better of him.

“Well, not entirely. Your home is with the sea, I think my home is just with you.”

Arthur frowned and closed his eyes, and Alfred wanted to shout in joy as he noticed a red dusk appearing on Arthur’s face. Apparently he wasn’t so horrified as Alfred had expected him to be.

“Don’t say things like that. It’s very unbecoming.”

Alfred, realizing what his words were doing now, smirked and let his voice drawl a little. “Is that so?” Arthur grumbled and Alfred leaned forwards, determined to make sure his message hit home.

He tilted his head lightly and gently slanted his lips over Arthur’s, enjoying the momentary freeze of the other before Arthur forced himself to relax again. He squinted slightly – Arthur’s eyes were still closed and he watched the crease between his eyebrows disappear.

His insides fluttered pleasantly as Arthur pushed back softly. The kiss wasn’t deepened, instead Alfred tried his best to just massage the other’s lips with his own, conveying his message. It felt delicate and tender and his toes curled in delight when Arthur leaned against him lightly.

It felt like a wonderful eternity had passed when they parted, Alfred feeling warm as he saw the red dusk on Arthur’s cheeks hadn’t disappeared. He allowed himself to gaze into the pools of emerald staring into his own – allowed himself to think that the glint he didn’t understand in them would be amazement or something else.

He _definitely_ didn’t imagine the tiny smile that appeared on Arthur’s face however. As fast as it came it was gone, replaced by a neutral expression again, and Arthur pulled away from the other.

“Right, let’s get back to training then.”

Back to business. Alfred wasn’t very disappointed, more amused, and nodded. Standing up and retrieving his sword, he watched as Arthur did the same, a few steps away from him. Perhaps now Arthur would be a bit gentler too – the bruise in his side was definitely going to be bitch later. He was sure Arthur didn’t mean to actually hurt him, but perhaps the man didn’t know his own strength, Alfred tried to reason hilariously.

Alfred noticed it a second too late – as did Arthur, judging by the sudden, anxious scowl on his face. Alfred froze as suddenly they were surrounded by people coming out of the seemingly non-dense trees, but he hadn’t seen them. Realizing they were looking pretty nastily at them, and that they were rather overpowered (seriously, he knew Arthur was strong but the ratio of 12 to 2 wasn’t really something to be happy about).

Nobody drew their weapons yet, though, and Arthur noticed that too, instead asking what they wanted, following by what Alfred thought was probably the Spanish translation. Neither man looked very understanding though and he wondered if they spoke another language entirely.

“What I want?”

That _voice_. Shit. Alfred’s face contorted into a scowl of his own  as a rather familiar figure stepped out into the circle of men.

He _knew_ they shouldn’t have let Ivan sail off like that. They could’ve taken him down, or at least they could’ve tried.

“I should have known you would follow me around.” Arthur sneered, turning his nose upwards slightly as if mocking the other. “Or did your ship simply strand here because of its damage?”

“Arthur-“ Alfred said, whispered more, hoping Arthur wasn’t intending to rile the other man up. He doubted that would be a good idea. Arthur glared at him though, heatedly, and he promptly shut up.

“I would listen to your pup, _da_?” Ivan said sweetly, appearing to have witnessed the little exchange. “Alas, you will not leave here.”

“And what harm are you going to do? Didn’t your precious little sister do your dirty work?”

Alfred raised his eyebrows at the gigantic mood shift in Ivan’s expression. He went from creepily polite to murderous in the matter of a second, and if he had to be honest it was quite intimidating.

“ _Fas_.”

Immediately what Alfred assumed were Ivan’s people or crew jumped into action, drawing their weapons. He stumbled a little to grab his own, watching in amazement as Arthur had already managed to cut one man down during the time he took to draw his own sword.

He was circled by three men, and whilst he did fine defending himself, there was no time nor were there any possibilities for attacking. Alfred knew their tactic – they were just going to wear them out. Arthur had managed to gut one other, but was now in the same position as him.

He cursed himself for not having his gun, but blessed himself that they didn’t have one either. He was about to move closer to Arthur as something butted into his head rather harshly. He felt a sharp sting of pain before becoming incredibly dizzy, promptly passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and English is not my first language.
> 
> Nassau – At the end of the 17th century, captain Every bribed a governor in Nassau. A few years after that the town was attacked by the Franco-Spanish fleet twice over the span of a two or three years, and the town was left abandoned. English privateers who acted as lawless pirates took control. 
> 
> Libertatia is a possibly fictional colony founded by pirates under Captain James Misson in the late 17th century. 
> 
> Fas – kind of like the dog command for attack. Because Ivan trains his people well. 
> 
> The story is nearing it's end, just a warning lol.


	17. Chapter 17

When Alfred woke up, he found that he couldn’t move very well. His head hurt like a bitch, and he figured that was probably because he had been hit unconscious. Groaning as he tried to roll around, he wearily blinked his eyes open.

They were on a ship, he knew, but they weren’t sailing. The faint wobbling proved that they were on the water, and Alfred sorely hoped that they were still docked at the same island they had been on earlier.

The quarters they were in were sparsely decorated. The wooden floor was white, covered with a few fur rugs here and there. He could see a desk out of the corner of his eye, but he had more important things to focus on.

Opposite of him, against the wall, sat Arthur. He was gagged and shackled, glaring around him fiercely. By the bleary eyed look in his eyes, Alfred knew he had only just woken up as well, and wondered when Arthur had been knocked unconscious.

Then he noticed the rather large red spot on his blouse and how Arthur’s shackled hands were pressed into his side. He remembered Arthur getting sliced by _someone_ earlier, moments before he passed out. Idly he remembered they had left Arthur’s red coat and hat, but he couldn’t care a lot at the moment.

Alfred tried to force himself into a sitting position. He was not gagged, but his hands were bound together by shackles all the same, but his legs were free.

He winced as he tried to get up, feeling his knee hurt like a bitch. He looked down and saw a strange dent where his knee was supposed to be, and with a sickening feeling he realized it was dislocated.

Arthur grumbled, shaking his head when his eyes landed on Alfred and what he was trying to do. Alfred stilled, sitting back down with a grimace. Arthur was in  the midst of gesturing around with his bound hands towards his own legs when the door slammed open and they both froze.

Ivan walked in, one other man following him in. Alfred didn’t recognize the man, but didn’t bother trying either. He was _furious-_ and rattled at his shackles in hopes of breaking them. Ivan merely passed him an amused glance and ignored him, heading straight towards Arthur.

He expertly dodged Arthur’s legs, which shot out to kick at the man’s kneecaps in a futile attempt of escape. Instead he readied his pistol and waited until Arthur took notice. Arthur stilled once more and glared up through his bangs, and Alfred only then noticed the small cut on his forehead, which was slowly dripping blood down his cheek as well.

“You look so pretty like this!” Ivan grabbed Arthur, dragging him up until he was standing. Caressing the barrel of his gun across Arthur’s cheek, he practically giggled.

Alfred shouted in alarm as Ivan pulled his gun and shot Arthur in his upper arm. He watched Arthur visibly tense, his face whitening like a sheet. Arthur bit down harshly on the gag and whimpered lowly. He stumbled back but was held upright by Ivan’s grip.

His glare however, was fiercer than Alfred had ever seen before, promising death and worse. Ivan wasn’t affected. Alfred watched as blood slowly trickled down from Arthur’s arm, staining his sleeve and dripping onto Ivan’s white-wooded floor.

“They did say dead or alive, after all. Though alive they would probably respect me more, _da_?”

He released Arthur, who slumped back against the wall into a sitting position. Ivan laughed again and kneeled down, grabbing Arthur’s hair and tipping his head backwards. Satisfied with the re-established eye contact, his hand wandered down back to Arthur’s chin, grabbing hold of it and turning Arthur’s face sideways slightly.

“I will feast on your bounty.” Ivan cheered. “Perhaps I will send someone to assassinate cute little brother too.”

Arthur started trashing and cursing, but it wasn’t anything coherent thanks to the gag in his mouth.

“Oh! Don’t worry. Sooner or later I find out every little secret.” Ivan put his pistol down on the ground, and used his free hand to push on Arthur’s hurt shoulder. Grinning widely at Arthur’s groan of pain, he spread his fingers and started digging into the bullet hole.

 “But perhaps I will have fun with you before that.” He said, before finally extracting the bullet and throwing it somewhere behind him. Arthur looked a little sick, eyes having trouble with focusing on the Russian’s face.

Ivan grabbed his pistol again and started caressing Arthur’s neck with it, sliding it down his blouse and to his trousers. Alfred felt a heat of anger pass through him as Arthur didn’t even struggle and just glared harder as Ivan prodded at his belly with the pistol.

“You’re too fat for him,” Alfred taunted, loud enough so that he knew for sure Ivan would hear him. His voice cracked on the first word, but he was proud that it sounded rather strong afterwards. He was heard, and both Ivan and Arthur turned their heads towards him, the latter more surprised than the other.

Ivan sighed and straightened up. “I do not even know your name, stupid kid.” He said as he walked over, heavy boots thumping on the floor. The man that had followed Ivan in looked kind of nauseous too, his eyes glued onto Arthur in fear.

But fear of what? Alfred paid him better attention but was interrupted as Ivan instead knelt down in front of him.

Ivan grinned at him wickedly, grabbing his wrist and pushing the chains down slightly. They chafed and rubbed at his skin, creating new scuff marks and Alfred winced.

“You have no bounty.” The Russian said with a smile, other hand coming up to grab his hair. “But I know how to make money out of you yet.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Alfred spat angrily, biting back hot tears at the pains  from the shackles. He felt wet liquid slowly collecting underneath the shackles as Ivan tightened them and pushed at them. He was bleeding, great.

Ivan grinned and stood upright, dragging Alfred by the hair. His headache worsened and he flinched, clenching his eyes shut. He was relieved when Ivan released him, and caught himself from their sudden trip to the other side of the room, lest he fall down on his face.

He had completely failed to notice the small fire pit in the room before, and honestly, who had such a thing in a closed off room on a ship anyway? Though he could get an inkling why – perhaps to torture prisoners into giving information. Alfred knew his face probably whitened a little.

This was _not_ what he signed up for, with what becoming a pirate.

Ivan hummed some sort of lullaby as he jovially grabbed something that looked suspiciously much like a poker and Alfred grimaced as he put it into the fire, waiting for it to heat up. He looked over instead to Arthur, who was still glaring at Ivan.

Noticing the other’s eyes on him however, Arthur lowered his gaze. His eyebrows lowered into a frown as Arthur nodded over to Ivan, and then closed his eyes for a moment, pushing at his gag. Alfred had a faint idea of what he meant – don’t bite your tongue whilst you scream.

“You are strong man.” Ivan said as he turned back around. Alfred’s eyes zoomed in on the poker – it seemed to have a letter on it. “But you are pirate still.”

He struggled as Ivan managed to grab his wrist, pushed back the damn tight shackles again to clear the area, dragging loose skin away. He grabbed Alfred’s hair again as well, straightening the other man a little.

Within seconds the end of the poker was pushed into his skin and he managed to do what Arthur told him – but still he screamed in agony. His skin was already raw and he felt as if the poker were going straight through his wrist.

He didn’t think he had ever felt any kind of pain that could compare to this – it reminded him of when he burned his hands on the cooking pot when he was a kid, but so, _so_ , much worse, and he felt humiliated.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he dropped the poker to the ground and twisted Alfred’s wrist for all to see. Through his tears Alfred could see his red, bleeding skin. A ‘P’ was branded into his arm, the skin burnt and smelling terrible.

“Now be quiet until I finish.” Ivan said jovially, shoving Alfred to the ground again and turning back around to Arthur.

Alfred heaved much to his own disgust, breathing in and out deeply as he fought to get the pain back under control. For a second he was afraid he was going to pass out, but the gentle swaying of the ship reminded him of his situation and he forced his eyes open and onto Arthur again.

Arthur’s eyes held something strangely alike pity and concern, but it was gone in a moment as Ivan kneeled down again.

“Where were we? Oh, I wanted to acquaint you with this!” He grabbed his pistol again. He grabbed at Arthur’s wounded arm once more, and Arthur reluctantly turned sideways a little, his face betraying what was going to happen as he looked more irritated than scared.

Alfred watched Ivan force his hand into Arthur’s trousers and suddenly the pain in his wrist didn’t matter anymore, for just a second. He ignored his dislocated knee in favour of shooting forward to grab the poker, forgetting about the other man in the room. One of the sides, with the P on it, would be too blunt, but the other side was pointier.

“Too bad you can’t join my crew, Arthur.” Ivan said sweetly as he untucked Arthur’s shirt. “You are so pretty, especially like this. But pirate is pirate.” As Ivan talked, Alfred managed to get up on one knee and he surged forward, holding the poker out in front of him.

“Hey!” The nameless man shouted, though it sounded incredibly hesitating and soft. Nevertheless, Ivan turned around and his sickening smile turned into an infuriated glare. He was a bit too late however, and Alfred managed to force the poker through the man’s hip with all the strength he could muster.

Shouting in alarm and pain, Ivan stumbled backwards, aiming his gun. A shot rang out and Alfred felt a bullet graze his arm, but he didn’t let it stop him. Instead he pulled the man down to his level and grabbed the poker, a sick smell and noise coming from where the heated P met the skin of his hand. He twisted it and dragged it.

Ivan kicked at his injured legs and Alfred stumbled, releasing the poker and nearly falling sideways. He didn’t allow himself, forcing his exhausted body straight again and forced his shackles down to his wrist, the metal cutting into his skin again and dragging against his burnt flesh.

He didn’t allow Ivan another chance to shoot when he started bashing the man’s head in with the metal on his wrists. He didn’t _stop_ – hearing Ivan’s curses fade out into wet sounding garbles, watching as Ivan’s normal shaped head slowly bended and dented under the strength he put in his hits.

Eventually he heard a loud crack and he watched as Ivan’s head all but split open, blood and other matter coating the wood underneath him. He didn’t stop even then, until he suddenly heard the click of a gun.

Looking up, he saw the brunette from earlier holding a gun, aiming it to him, looking absolutely terrified.

At both his and Arthur’s glare however, the man visibly winced and took a step back and lowered his gun. “Just get out of here, demons!” He said then, all but fleeing the room. Alfred wondered how long they would have until the rest of the crew would come look.

He was kicked slightly in the arm and turned around to see Arthur, who rolled his eyes at his gag and he hurried to remove it.

“Pockets.” Arthur breathed once he could speak again. “For the shackles. Check his pockets, quickly.” Alfred nodded, shoving himself of the corpse of Ivan and moving his hands over his coat and pockets. He felt the pain in his wrists and arms return tenfold, and it leg felt if it was dismembered from him.

Within seconds he procured a set of keys, which he gave to Arthur. He anxiously watched Arthur fumble until finding the right one, releasing his hands before releasing Alfred’s. As the metal fell away he was given sight on the extent of the wounds on his arms, and he almost had to throw up again. One wrist was fairly okay, bloody scuff marks decorating his arm, but the other had burnt flesh and raw wounds due to the hot poker earlier.

“Alfred!” Arthur’s voice snapped him out of it and he looked at the other with big eyes. Arthur was glaring at him as he pushed the other in a sitting position, leg’s outstretched. He shoved his earlier gag to Alfred, which Alfred shakenly put between his teeth.

He wasn’t on time with closing his eyes, witnessing Arthur pushing the weird shape of his leg back into its usual one. The clicking of the bone snapping back into its place _hurt,_  and he cursed through the gag, slamming his less injured hand down on the deck as distraction.

“Get _up_. We have to go.” Arthur wobbled into a standing position, pulling at Alfred’s blouse. Outside they heard commotion, and the Russian’s crew had obviously figured out what had happened.

“Wait, gun-“

“No time, come here.” His leg ached, but he found that putting weight on it didn’t hurt as much as he expected. He forced himself to bite through the pain and walked over to where Arthur was glaring out of the window. Arthur grabbed something from Ivan’s desk and bashed the window, elbowing his way through the glass.

He grabbed Alfred’s arm and all but pushed him out of the window and into the water, jumping in after him just as Alfred heard the door being kicked open.

The water bit at his wounds and he swallowed more salt water that he wanted in surprise, feeling momentarily disoriented as the sea roared in his head. It didn’t take long before he felt his elbow being grabbed again. They didn’t surface however,  Arthur instead kicking through the water and away from the ship.

His lungs burned, and just as he felt he couldn’t keep going anymore Arthur dragged them both to the surface. Coughing out what felt like his entire lungs but was just excess salt water, Alfred managed to clear his vision. They weren’t very far from land, but it would be a nasty swim. Arthur had the same idea judging by the grimace on his face.

Alfred had no idea how many minutes passed – it could have been hours – and when they finally felt ground underneath their feet he wanted to cry. Arthur looked even worse than he did however, and as Alfred moved to grab him he all but leant his entire weight on the other.

Deciding he couldn’t lie down just yet, he dragged both of them out of the water and onto the sand before releasing the other and all but collapsing onto the  sand. It would get everywhere, and he felt it chafe at his wounds, but he didn’t care.

Arthur sat down too, though looked around warily before all else. They shared a few minutes in silence, and Alfred wanted to ask what now. They were obviously nowhere near the village or the docks, and idly he wondered if they were on the wrong side of the island. Were they even on the same island?

“Holy shit, Jones,” Arthur suddenly said. Then the smaller man started laughing. It sounded a little humourless and pained, but he laughed for a good minute. “Were you even thinking? You completely bashed the fucker’s head in, even made it seem easy!”

Alfred grimaced at the memory of the guy’s head – completely indented and lacking its usual shape, blood oozing from the crack.

“Can’t say I’m not glad you did, but didn’t you go a little overboard there?”

“He was going to rape you, so let’s stop talking about that creep.” Alfred decided on saying, pushing himself in a sitting position again. Instead, he shrugged off shirt. It was dirty and bloody, but it would have to do. “We need to dress your wounds.”

Arthur nodded, surprisingly compliant. He removed his shirt and revealed bruised ribs, but Alfred’s main concern were the wound on his upper arm and in his side. The wound in his side was either still bleeding or had opened again after their swim, and Alfred tried not to think too much about it as he took of his own shirt and ripped it apart in rags before wrapping them around Arthur’s waist.

“If this gets infected, know I at least tried.” He said, hoping to ease the mood a little once he was met with Arthur’s pained expression.

The dressing of the wounds went pretty easy as Arthur worked along with whatever he said. He was no carpenter or surgeon, so Alfred hoped he did an okay job, but he wasn’t given any indicator that what he did was not good. Arthur stopped him from using his last rag however, nodding at the sea.

“You’re a daft fool. Go wash your wrist of sand, and this too, and let me wrap that.”

Grimacing, Alfred looked down at his wrist. Deciding he better get it over with, he stood up and hurried to the water, dunking his arms and the dirty rag in the water and hissing at the bite of the salt. Deeming them  and the rag clean enough, he wobbled back, still not sure how much he could do with his leg.

Arthur grabbed his worst arm and looked at it, expression forlorn. “They branded you, as if you were some bloody sheep.” He said, hatred clear in his voice. Alfred tried not to think of the actual mark – his pain was worse than whatever he felt about being marked so permanently and obviously. “I’m sorry.”

Surprised at the words – he wasn’t even sure Arthur was capable of apologizing – Alfred faltered. “For what?”

Arthur squeezed the rag off its excess water, before gingerly wrapping it around the other’s wrist. It hurt, but Alfred knew that it would be better to cover it than to expose it to whatever bacteria. Tying a soft knot just above the mark, Arthur let his fingers dance from Alfred’s wrist to his palm.

“If it weren’t for me… well, let’s not dwell on it.”

Instead of giving a proper answer, Arthur pulled Alfred down just a little and pushed their lips together softly. The kiss was the gentlest Alfred had ever had, gentler even than the one they shared only moments before, and it made his heart ache and his eyes blink back tears again. Arthur caressed his palm still as they kissed almost innocently.

Parting, the look in Arthur’s eyes made him feel a pleasant sort of warm. It made him forget about what he just did – he did go overboard, horribly so. He was under no illusion – he was going to have nightmares about it, no doubt.

Especially since Alfred realized he had taken a sick kind of pleasure in watching the head beneath his hands slowly giving way to his hits and shaping into something more disgusting.

But Arthur gave him such an amazed look, almost as if he were in wonder of the other, and it didn’t matter anymore. Sighing, Arthur stood up, Alfred following.

“We need to find our way back. Judging by the sun I think we have about six hours before it gets dark – we would do good to find shelter by then.”

“Are we even on the same island, then?”

“Of course, we were only taken to his ship.”

Alfred nodded. He wondered if Arthur had even been out of it. He doubted Ivan and his crew would easily get Arthur from where they were to the ship if he weren’t out of it. Probably not. He felt immensely glad that Ivan had preferred the alive bounty over the dead bounty, though.

* * *

 

Trudging through the woods with Arthur Kirkland proved to be quite amusing if not exhausting. Aside from the fact that they both felt like shit and more than once irritably snapped at each other, Arthur obviously felt comfortable with only Alfred as company.

It didn’t take a lot of prodding before Arthur opened up more about what he knew about the island – Arthur said he was sure that they were still on the same one, so that was good – and about its inhabitants. There were natives here, but they weren’t inclined to unnecessary violence.

He knew what fruits and plants to eat and which to avoid, all because of their smells or colours. He showed Alfred that even with no water in their area and no rain, they could drink from the wood of the trees which surprisingly held a bit of water in their barks. Which they could then also eat. Though he preferred the soggy ship-food any day.

That night they found shelter in a rather shallow cave, shielded slightly by a cluster of trees and other vegetation. Arthur scowled and obviously wanted to move on, but he was moving slower by the minute and looked whiter than when they started too, so Alfred insisted. His leg was aching as well.

He sat Arthur down and collected some dry twigs here and there, followed by watching in amazement as Arthur conjured a fire from nothing. He wanted to ask how that was done, but Arthur looked absolutely exhausted and miserable.

“How is your wound?” Arthur asked, nodding to Alfred’s wrist.

“It itches a lot.”

“That means it’s healing, but don’t touch it lest it gets infected. You could lose your hand.”

“Don’t go out of your way to reassure me or anything,” Alfred joked nervously, trying his best to ignore the painful, itching sensation of his wrist.

“I’ll keep an eye out for aloe and chamomile.” At Alfred’s confused look, Arthur sighed. “Plants that will soothe your – and mine – wounds. Try and sleep with your leg elevated, by the way.”

Alfred wasn’t even going to question Arthur at this moment, nodding as he retrieved some rocks and wood. He made a pile of them and leant back on the wall of the cave, putting his leg on the pile in front of him. Arthur nodded approvingly and sat down next to him, flinching a little as the movement jarred his side and arm.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be fine.” Arthur said determinedly, glaring off in the distance. “Go sleep, I will keep watch.”

Alfred wanted to protest, thinking that Arthur was probably more tired than he was judging by the exhausted look on the other’s face, but he had already dozed off.

They woke slowly the next morning, their limbs stiff and their wounds aching. Alfred felt his leg ached more than it did yesterday, probably because of the weight he had put onto it, and decided he would try and relieve it a little more that day. His wrists were numb, and he hoped they would remain so.

He had offered his arm to Arthur, who all but dragged himself upwards by the side of the wall, face contorted in unease, but it had been swatted away.

They journeyed further through the woods, opting to stay for where they could see the position of the sun. Occasionally Arthur would stop and mutter some inaudible words as if he were talking to something that was not there, and usually Alfred would be amused, but for now he just hoped Arthur knew where they were going.

They continued on like this for another two days, Alfred getting kind of drained by then. Aside from his wounds still itching and aching, and the cold and restless nights, his stomach was starting to protest too. He kept from whining however, focusing on dragging his feet on. He felt a little better, physical-wise, as his leg didn’t ache as much anymore.

Arthur’s face hadn’t contorted in pain anymore, but he was still whiter than usual and often flinched away from unexpected touches. First Alfred was afraid it was psychological or something, but at night he allowed Alfred to pull him close to share warmth, so he supposed it was just because he wanted to be careful with his wounds.

Eventually they had to redress and clean their wounds somewhat, finding a small stream where they could wash out the rags and their wounds. So far no infections, so far so good.

He shuddered as he stood knee-deep in the stream, the cold biting into his skin and settling in his bones. It took a while to get used to, and once it did he leant down to splash water on himself. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Arthur do the same, a grimace on his face.

Another reason why Arthur had been tense was pretty obvious to Alfred. Without any weapons they were oddly vulnerable. They had no sword, no guns. Alfred didn’t even have his dagger, and he was sure Arthur had been picked clean on the Russian’s ship.

Glancing at Arthur, Alfred reasoned they should have at least grabbed Ivan’s own sword or the poker, or even the gun. Though their swim would have probably made the gun useless. He felt anger boiling in his stomach again as he watched the lithe man next to him carefully cup water in his hands. Arthur wasn’t wearing his shirt in favour of cleaning the wound on his side, and the bruises on his ribs had turned a sickly colour.

He was made aware of his staring when Arthur shot him an irritable look.

“If I throw a stick, will you leave?” Arthur snapped, turning away slightly from him. Alfred sighed. They had been at it again, throwing back and forth insults. To Alfred it was more of a game, really, riling his captain up was a kind of dangerous and fun activity.

“Is it the stick from up your ass?” Alfred threw back with a haughty grin. It got the result Alfred expected – Arthur turned around to venomously glare at him. As he started to wade through the stream towards Alfred however, the younger man panicked and did the next best thing. Alfred leant down, collected as much water as he could, and all but shoved a wave of cold water onto Arthur.

It worked; Arthur halted with an incredulous expression as he blinked at the excess water on his face, his hair mopped down to his forehead. He was absolutely _drenched_ , apparently Alfred had managed to catch more water than he had intended.

Alfred burst out into laughter. “Your face!”

He peeked at Arthur’s expression – still intense with the glare and the disapproving, but slowly relaxing a little. Arthur rolled his eyes at him and kicked out a leg, sending a splash of water onto his own torso. Alfred yelped at the cold.

He resisted tackling the other – mindful of the red, angry cut on his waist – but leant back again with determination in his eyes.

“Alfred, don’t you dare-“ Arthur was cut off again as the same amount of water again drenched him completely, coughing as he swallowed some of it. Alfred laughed gleefully as Arthur’s impressive brows lowered in their own determination, Arthur bending over to assault Alfred with more water too.

After only a few minutes he noticed Arthur getting out of breath, arm clutching his side, and Alfred halted his actions. He raised his hands in surrender and chuckled as he approached the smaller blonde.

He helped himself and Arthur out of the stream as their wounds had been cleaned sufficiently, leaving Arthur on the bank beside the water as he turned around to wash the rags clean(er). Deeming them as clean as they could get, he returned back to Arthur.

Arthur had in fact found some of the plants he had been talking about earlier, having mashed them together along with some water to create a cream of sorts, and was busy applying it to his side as Alfred carefully put the rags down to dry.

“How long do you think until we return to the ship?” Alfred asked curiously as Arthur then applied some of the green stuff on his own wrist.

“Assuming the ship is still there. I do not know, perhaps another day, perhaps two.”

“Why wouldn’t the ship still be there?”

Arthur offered an unimpressed look. “We have been gone for over three days, Alfred, no one seeing a sign of us in town. If anyone wanted to overthrow me, now is their chance.”

Alfred had trouble believing that – to him it seemed, and he knew it to be true somewhere, that the crew always looked up to Arthur, always sought his advice and command.

“Better yet, I am in no state to defend myself were we to return to the ship with someone else trying to obtain my status.”

“You’re wrong,” Alfred said, knowing it to be true. “No one would overthrow you or anything. I mean, perhaps they think we are dead and have left, yeah, but if they’re still there then they’re just waiting for us. Besides, anyone tries to hurt you and I’ll wring their necks.”

One thing Alfred had come to term with, despite the nightmares he had about smashing someone’s skull in, was that he could blame it on his natural protectiveness of the person he cared for. That was normal, right? It would’ve been the same with his brothers or parents.

“Charming.” Arthur replied dryly. “I suppose it does not matter. We should focus on getting out of the woods.”

“What, you don’t like it in here? I thought it had its charm. We could pretend that we were raised by apes or wolves. Go at it like rabbits and stuff.”

“Forgive me for not sharing the sentiment and wanting to howl at the moon with you. And we are not going at it like anything unless we have sufficient lubricant.”

Alfred blushed a little as he laughed loudly at Arthur’s flat expression. “I was just joking. Though I suppose there are other things we could do. And you seem to know a lot about plants and oils so. _But_ I was joking. _Awooo._ ”

He told himself that he was definitely kidding as he ignored the heated, amused expression Arthur shot him, the one that went straight to his groin. He was kind of pleased however that his proposition (joke) hadn’t been completely rejected.

Alfred squinted a little – his eyes hurt more than usual lately, and though it was nowhere near a headache right now, he knew he would go to sleep with one. It had been a usual occurrence on the ship since a few weeks already, but after he had been hit on the head a few days ago it seemed to have worsened. Arthur apparently noticed it.

“Headache?”

“Not really, eyes just have trouble adjusting. Sometimes my sight is kind of vague.”

Arthur frowned. “How vague? Can you see my features?”

“Yeah! Up close is no problem. Further off is getting kind of disorienting. But I’ve had it for a while now, perhaps it’s just because of the crappy food and lack of vitamins, ha! I’ll get used to it.”

“Or perhaps you are going blind.” Arthur commented after a while, watching Alfred rub his eyes. Alfred blanched.

Blind.

Going blind? Oh _hell_ no. He wasn’t even twenty years old! How in the world was he supposed to do anything if he were blind? He knew of blind old men in his home-town, they did nothing but sit around all day, completely dependent! Oh man-

“Stop freaking out.” Arthur reprimanded. “We can procure a set of glasses for you from a merchant. Perhaps not here, but soon enough.”

 _Glasses._ Alfred remembered what those were, but they were expensive like hell. Nobody in his village ever had them, aside from the odd monocle.

“Just try not to overexert them. If it gets dark, let them rest.” Alfred had no idea how he was supposed to do that, but swallowed and nodded nonetheless, willing his initial panic away. Besides, perhaps it was just as Alfred had said, perhaps Arthur was just exaggerating. 

After the rags had dried, they redressed their wounds and were on their way again. They took shelter in a cluster of trees that night. The night was chilly as usual so Alfred pulled Arthur close to him, side pressed against his own, as he begrudgingly closed his eyes. Apparently letting them rest had meant Arthur refused to let him keep guard. This meant Arthur would be subjected to the task, but that would mean the man would get little to no sleep, and Alfred didn’t like that idea but he couldn’t do much about it.

It showed too – Arthur was even slower than usual and obviously looked more exhausted, though he never complained once and was always still in front of Alfred, leading the way. He admired then the strength and determination in the other, and were it not for his caring for the other man, he might not even had noticed Arthur was a little under the weather.

On the fourth day, Alfred finally wanted to give and start complaining, when Arthur suddenly froze and grinned widely. Nodding over to what was apparently good, Alfred too saw the smoke rising above the trees.

“That means we’re near the village. Right?” He asked, not daring getting his hopes up. It could be a forest fire. Arthur thought it was at least _a_ village however, and their pace quickened. It took them an hour, but the houses were in sight, and Alfred wanted to enthusiastically run over to him. He was stopped however when he noticed Arthur stilling.

“We can’t go in.” Arthur simply said.

“What?! Why not? Man, I _need_ some food.”

Arthur looked at him rather incredulous, as if he were stupid. “Because, there is an incredible bounty on my head, and despite my reputation, everyone can see I am in no condition to defend myself. Even those who are afraid of me. I can’t go in there and hope to remain unscathed.”

Shit, he was right. And if this wasn’t the right village, then they’d be even more fucked. But Alfred had no such bounty.

“I can go in and try and get some food or stuff.”

“How? You have no-“

“I can try and steal? How hard can it be.”

Arthur sighed. “We could also just circle the village and head for the docks. This is likely the neighbouring village, so it would take only a day or two at most.”

“Come on Arthur…”

He was met with an unimpressed look and Arthur waved his hand. “You wish to risk losing your hands? I will not wait for you.”

Alfred wanted to comment on how he was probably never going to go on without him, as the threat held a suspicious lack of emotion. But Arthur had a point – Alfred had never stolen in that manner, and if he would get caught, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself past the use of his fists.

Sagging his shoulders in resignation, he followed Arthur as they circled around the town instead, keeping a safe distance.

That night they had the luck of finding an abandoned hut in a cluster of trees. It took Arthur a while before he was able to climb into it, so Alfred helped and pulled him up easily, his weight nothing compared to the what he had to deal with on a daily basis on the ship.

“Why on earth is this even here?” Alfred asked, looking around incredulously. Granted, it was a _tiny_ hut, and they were all but squashed together.

“For hunting.” Arthur said, nodding to the rectangular window in front of them. “Get some sleep.”

“No.” Alfred rejected this time, frowning at the other. “You’ll fall over if you don’t sleep. So _you_ sleep.”

Arthur looked tense for a moment – and an idea came to Alfred; what if Arthur just didn’t trust Alfred enough? That would be stupid. They slept together in his cabin before, and the first night he had let Alfred keep guard too.

His train of thought was cut short thankfully as Arthur instead scoffed and slumped back slightly, leaning against Alfred’s side.

“Fine, but try and let your eyes rest as much as possible.” He grumbled, allowing Alfred to put an arm around him and pull him closer. Alfred sorely hoped they would maintain this level of physical contact when they returned to the ship. He was sure as hell going to initiate it, but whether or not it would be accepted was another thing.

For now, he could make do with this. He smiled gleefully as he noticed Arthur had fallen asleep in a matter of seconds, breathing heavy and the permanent frown gone from his face. Outside it was quiet, the occasional animal making some noise as the wind gently blew through the trees.

He closed his eyes and tried to not fall asleep while keeping his ears strained for any kind of danger, and sorely hoped they would indeed find the ship the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay then!  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and English is not my first language.
> 
> Next chapter is prolly going to be the last.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow, I didn't update this for over a year and I am sorry for that bhhbhbjh. But ever since like, chapter 16 or so, I've been incredibly...not motivated for the story, for some reason. I originally planned the story to go well beyond 20 chapters, but yeah.  
> I didn't even manage to finish this last chapter. 
> 
> BUT because it's been so long and because I've had messages about it, I decided to at least post the small beginning of chapter 18 that I already wrote a year ago. In the end notes I'll try and summarize very shortly what my intentions were. I'm sorry I wasn't able to finish it, but I hope you enjoyed the ride nonetheless!

Returning to the Emerald Dragon had gone effortlessly, as Alfred had hoped. As soon as they had approached the docks, Arthur visibly relaxing when he saw that the huge ship was still there, they were approached by concerned crew members.

There was a flurry of questions and noises of alarm as they were hurried onto the ship, people asking them where the hell they had been and what was wrong with them, where the dried blood-stains on Arthur’s shirt came from or why Alfred wasn’t wearing one at all.

Alfred wanted to just fall down and trust his crew to carry his unconscious form to the hammocks, but he stood tall as he watched Arthur shut down any concern or offered help with a snide remark, his captain-air back in full force.

Most of the men were told to get back to their work, James and Leon lingering behind as Arthur sagged his shoulders a little when he was no longer under scrutiny from everyone. He watched as Arthur grabbed hold of James’ shoulder, as if he were steering the man, but he was fairly sure that he was just using the other as a safeguard from falling down himself.

James played along quite nicely, allowing Arthur to steer them to the med bay as Alfred followed. He should probably get those wounds checked too. Inside they were met with only Lukas, and Alfred realized Ralph was probably in town.

Lukas looked up in alarm, his usual stoic façade breaking slightly when his lips turned up into a smile at the sight of the two lost men.

Arthur dropped his façade once more and groaned as he sat down on a chair for patients. Alfred sat down on a barrel close by, taking a deep breath.

He was _home –_ man, he could cry. He had never had any doubt of the presence of the Emerald Dragon, but to have it visibly confirmed did wonders to his mood. He wasn’t sure what they would have done if the ship had left without them. Would Arthur board another ship, taking control or serve as a crew member? He couldn’t imagine Arthur serving under anyone. Would they have stolen a merchant’s ship? Alfred had no idea.

He was quiet as Arthur patiently answered every question James fired his way. Arthur explained how they had escaped – going into more detail than Alfred would have liked, and he flinched at remembering the weird shape of the Russian’s head – and how they had travelled back in a few days.

“Nonetheless,” Arthur commented as he was finished. “We will do good to leave as soon as possible. Despite lacking a leader, they could still chance an attack. And I honestly could not be bothered by that right now.”

Amen. Alfred shook his head with a grin at Arthur’s sarcastic expression.

“So, should I give the order to head to York?” Leon asked then. Arthur nodded, but told him they had no particular hurry, as he could imagine other members were still in town or still wanted to get some valuables. As long as they would be gone by the next morning it would be fine.

James left too, and Arthur removed his shirt for Lukas to examine his wounds. Upon looking at the wound in his side, Lukas scowled.

“I am going to need to re-open and clean that and stitch it properly.” Lukas said immediately. The slightly healed bullet wound in Arthur’s arm got no such treatment. Lukas offered a bottle of rum to Arthur, who gratefully took it, explaining to Alfred he needed something to soothe the upcoming pain.

Lukas turned to Alfred then, expectantly waiting.

“I, uh, dislocated my knee but I think it’s fine. And then there’s this.” He stuck out both his arms, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. He grimaced at the ugly marks on his flesh and the letter burned into his wrist.

Lukas mumbled about being the judge of how his knee was, but his eyes widened a little as he noticed the brand mark on his wrist. A tense silence followed as Lukas looked at Arthur for a moment for an explanation, and Alfred huffed annoyed – he could do that himself.

“Look, I know this is going to be shit later, but right now I just want it to stop itching.”

Lukas nodded reluctantly, gently cleaning the wound before applying some salves Alfred didn’t know. In no time both his wrists were wrapped in clean, white bandages. After feeling his knee a little, and apparently approving it’s condition, he was sent out.

Alfred looked over to Arthur with concern – was he just supposed to leave the other here? He was taken back however by the glare Arthur send him. It clicked that Arthur probably didn’t want to appear vulnerable again towards the other. Alfred gloomily left the med bay, returning back to the decks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, they have found the ship and are back! All seems good? If not for Arthur having a big stick in his ass and everyone treating Alfred like he is glass because of the P on his wrist, because usually people with P's on their wrist (slaves) didn't work out so well in that time. Alfred and Arthur hardly talk as Arthur shuts himself in his cabin when he's not captain-ing (not before procuring a FABULOUS green coat lol). 
> 
> Timeskip to when they next dock at York, Alfred visibly /l o v e s/ the town, it's vibrant and busy and full of opportunities and hope (at least to his eye lol) and oops, Arthur notices. We follow Alfred as he's familiarizing himself witht he town with his crewmen-buds, and everything seems to be in order until Alfred gets approached by someone of a merchant ship telling him everything is in order and he'll be taking him back to England, or would he like to take on a position in their merchant company in York? 
> 
> Alfred freaks out Alfred-style, declines and rushes back to the ship, confronting Arthur about this and also about why they haven't been talking. Cue a sentimental scene with Arthur having a lot of trouble trying to explain that he feels guilty about what happened to Alfred, that he doesn't want him in any more danger, all the while trying to keep up the pretense of big bad Pirate Captain^TM.  
> From there on it's just more mushy stuff (well not really mushy because that isn't the style in this story but you get the idea), Alfred writing back home and telling the truth, and... sailing off to go raid some more towns. 
> 
> It sounds more underwhelming than I had planned it to be (there would definitely be some fight scenes and some appearances of guest characters), again I am so so sorry! I am definitely looking and writing on my other stories now, so I hope that they at least can be updated once more. Again, thank you all for reading!


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